Mass Effect: The Hopeless War
by ProfFartBurger
Summary: A/U- In the 21st century, the Batarian Hegemony discovers a beautifully violent species known as 'Humans'. After deciding to enslave the entire race, and turn them into their own personal slave warriors, the so-called Masters of War must go against the Makers of Slaves. But is it truly possible to combat an alien threat, when your own species can barely even leave its only home?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N:_

_Welcome, folks, to my newest story! The very first thing you should know, is that this story, in its entirety, is A/U! That means everything following the title is to be considered: **Non-Canon!**_

_Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let me get on with introductions._

_Welcome! Again!_

_This is the latest in my string of stories in the Mass Effect Universe, and I hope for it to have a much different tone than my other two. (For reasons you'll find out quickly, after the main Rising Action has occurred)_

_I draw the slightest influence from BombSquad's Mass Effect: A New Past series, but I say 'Slight' because that was the A/U series that introduced me to the concept of A/U, and gave me the idea to try my own._

_Finally, before we begin, I'd like to give a *big* thank you to two specific people:_

_Michael1110, for being my Beta for this (And other) story. He's just been an awesome guy to work with, and his constructive criticism (Be it good or bad) has really helped me grow as an author, and create the stories you all - seem to - enjoy._

_Lastly (But not least), I'd like to thank WPago, for being my veritable 'Informant' for all things Military. The moment I started drafting up the Proof of Concept for this story, I knew I couldn't go into things armed only with knowledge gleaned from Wikipedia and Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, so I looked around and managed to find this genius of War, and he's been essential in helping me with the military aspect of this story._

_And now, without further ado, we're off!_

* * *

_**Mass Effect: The Hopeless War**_

* * *

_Prologue_

* * *

_7/4/2014_

* * *

"But, the Invaders! They're coming!" Shouted a woman.

"We don't have any weapons, we can't fight them off!"

"I think he's an old-world soldier!" A kid pointed at the man in the Uniform.

"Please! Do something!"

Christopher McGraw was leaning against the wall of a subway tunnel. He'd stopped getting messages through his radio a quarter of an hour before. He kept the most positive attitude he could afford, and assumed that it only meant that the Invaders had finally knocked out the last of the Old-World Satellite Communications Networks. He was alone, in this small area. In front of him there were hundreds, if not, thousands, of Human Beings, hiding in the subway, trying desperately to evade the Invaders' wrath. He wouldn't tell them this, but he knew it was futile, the Invaders found everyone, eventually.

Chris sighed, and pushed off the wall. He opened his eyes, and found the first able-bodied young man he could spot.

"You." He pointed at the man, who couldn't have been older than sixteen.

"Me?" Asked the kid, before he shook his head, "Er, I mean, what do you need, sir?" He asked.

Chris pulled out one of the side-arms he'd taken from one of his fallen brothers. He had managed to take three magazines for the weapon, before he had to flee. He gave the weapon to the kid, and the magazines as well.

"If it isn't Human, it doesn't pass." The Ranger stated, before he turned on his heel and began moving up the stairs.

_"Wait!"_ Said the kid, "What are you doing?" He demanded.

"I'm buying you as much time as I can. Reinforcements are on the way, that's what the last broadcasts said. So I'm going to do what I can."

"But you can't hold them _all_ off!" The kid pointed out.

Chris smiled, "You know what the Old-World relied upon us Americans, for?" He asked, "It wasn't to be the biggest economy, it wasn't to be the 'free' world… No, they relied upon us for one thing: Soldiers. Before the fall of the Organized American Government, we'd had dozens of major wars in which we'd participated, most of which we won, many we lost, but all with heavy losses on the enemy side." He explained, "And we'd only been around for about two and a half centuries." He added, almost as an afterthought, "America had this idea… That if it was strong enough, it could protect everything, and usher in an era of relative peace, for all." Chris said, "Sadly, we'd never actually gotten to that point, but the fact remains, American Soldiers are the very best at what they do. So I may not be able to hold them all off, but like any hot-blooded Amer... Any hot blooded _Human_ _Being_... I'm going to try my damnedest." He stated, with a smile. He nodded once, before he left the subway, and closed the gate.

Outside the subway tunnel, and on ground-level, Chris took a few moments to marvel. If there wasn't hundreds, perhaps even a few thousand, jets and planes up in the air fighting, it would look as if the city hadn't even been touched by the war, or had been ignored entirely. Australia had been one of the few nations on Earth to have avoided the Invaders' wrath for the entirety of the War, but that was because the Invaders most likely saw the small 'island-nation' as having little to no threat, and decided to conquer it as the final campaign in the war. As such, many of the cities - including it's capital, Canberra, which Chris was currently standing in - had avoided the devastation of war.

For the entire year that the war had raged, Australia had missed out on it. It wasn't hit by the Invaders' orbital strikes, or the Humans' last-ditch-effort Nuclear Bombardments. It hadn't yet had to deal with the senseless mass-slaughter of it's armed forces, and the even more mass-enslavement of it's civilian populace. It was the last bastion of Free Humanity, and as a result, it would be the sight of the bloodiest battles in the war.

"This is Sergeant Christopher McGraw… United States Army Rangers…" Chris said into his radio, as he chambered a round in his M4, which, like his uniform, had managed to survive the entire war with him, "If anyone can hear this… I've got a subway station stuffed full of Human Civilians, who need immediate assistance. Invaders are moving here…" He paused, "I know I shall fall in this battle. Let all who know of my death, know I died fighting not for my country… But for my species." He said, as, in the distance, he saw them.

Hordes of them.

Some of them were small, with orange colored skin, minimal clothing, and hideous looking eyes. Some of them were enormous, lumbering creatures, who looked like bipedal frogs, with the builds and anger of Rhinoceroses. And the most populace of them were Human-sized, with ugly, lemon-yellow skin, and four dark, evil eyes. The Humans of Earth didn't know what these evil, _evil_ monsters called themselves, but the Humans knew them as Invaders.

What The Invaders couldn't solve through their immensely advanced technology - which Chris could see in the form of tanks and hover-based aircraft, following the ground hordes - they solved through their alien biology, and mass-horde tactics. The frog-aliens were immensely brutal, had thick hides, and seemed to have little to no self preservation instinct, not to mention their immense strength. The frog-aliens were, in essence, walking, talking tanks. Then there were the small, hideous ones, with what looked like skin stretched all across their faces. They had minimal armor, and weren't smart by any definition; they were quite easy to shoot, but they were numerous, and possessed some sort of regeneration mechanism that nothing save for fire and incendiary ammunition could counter. At first glance, they looked like the main grunt force for the invaders, but those who assumed so were wrong. They were being led by the most Human-looking of the groups, with sickly yellow skin and four dark, soulless eyes. These ones had to be the most brutal of the groups, and would constantly use weapons that did so much damage that they left no body to find. They seemed to be the smartest of them all, and had the most 'Human' of tactics, and because of this they were the most difficult to kill, when coupled with the hideos aliens and the frog-aliens. The aliens were so advanced, and so complimenting of each other's strategies, that they seemed like the perfect armies to counter act the unorthodoxity of Human beings. The fact that they owned Earth's orbit and atmosphere, did nothing to give the defending Humans any break.

"Guys…" Said Chris, not to anyone in particular, "I'm coming home." He said, as he shouldered his rifle, and aimed down the sight.

He inhaled deeply, and exhaled just as deeply. In once again, and out. He gripped the trigger for his M203 Grenade Launcher, in once again, and out. He pulled the trigger, sending his last grenade downrange, and the battle began.

* * *

"Sir!" Called a medic, as he tried to rouse Christopher McGraw from his blood-loss induced stupor, "Sergeant…" The combat medic paused, to check the Ranger's name tag, "McGraw! You're going to be okay! We'll get you out of this!" He shouted, over the sounds of war around him.

The bleeding Old World veteran underneath the soldier coughed, the medic saw blood begin to fill the bandana which covered the American's face, he took it off as carefully and as quickly as he could, and wiped some of the blood off of the man. "I'm going to give you something to help with the pain, Corporal, we're going to get you out of this, you just have to stay calm, and stay still!" The medic shouted, as the soldiers that had been behind him, roared forth, spewing everything he and his species had at The Invaders.

The soldier beneath the medic shook his head, "I'm… Done for… Kid." He said, halting the medic's hand's advance, and stopping the injection of the morphine. "You've got to help the guys who'll live to see another day…" He ordered the medic.

The ground next to them shook as a Human tank exploded, and on top of it came an enormous invader, this one looking like a bi-pedal toad, with thick skin, like a rhinoceros. The enormous invader spotted the two soldiers, and uttered a deafening battle cry, before it sprinted towards them, only to be cut in two by a passing gun ship, which was being chased by at least five Invader fighters. It was obvious to the medic and the dying soldier that the pilot knew he or she was done for, and was simply making a last-ditch effort gun run, to take out anyone he or she could, before the ship inevitably exploded.

"Sir, I can get you out of this, just take the morphine and -" The medic was interrupted when the dying soldier reached into the pants of his uniform, a relic of the countries that had used to divide his species. Its tan, green, and gray 'Universal Camouflage' pattern had long since been bleached by the sun, dulled by explosions and gravel, or stained by Invader and Human blood alike. But like the nation it had once belonged to, it still stood proud alongside it's bearer. The object the soldier pulled out was a journal, about twice the size of the soldier's hand.

"If we…" The soldier croaked, "_When_ we win…" He corrected himself, "Make sure this gets into the right hands…" He said, before he smiled, "I took out a damn good fifty of those guys… I think… Before you guys got here." He said, fondly remembering the battle that had taken place between him and the Invaders. He'd been able to single-handedly halt the Invaders and stop them in their tracks, a feat that was quite impressive, especially for the bigger ones.

"Sir, you're going to be okay!" Said the Medic, though he could see the beginnings of death in the man's eyes. It wouldn't be long at all, now.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil… For my species' warriors are with me; your guns and your bullets, they comfort me." The dying soldier said, before another cough, "I'll see you again in Hell… Kid. Bring a few of them with you, please?" The man requested, as his eyes glossed over and his tense body suddenly went limp.

"Murray!" The medic heard someone shout, as his gaze was enraptured by the pen and journal he'd been given. "Tyler!" That same voice shouted, the medic saw that the book has a hastily scribbled title written on it's front, "Get the hell up! We've got to get out of here! Canberra has fallen, so has HASCo! Everyone's moving back inland to regroup, last transmission was that six Invader ships from southern Asia were moving here, we need to get out of the city before it gets turned into a kill zone!" The man shouted, shaking the medic's shoulder.

"Yes sir!" Shouted the medic, Tyler, after he put the book in one of his pants pockets, and turned to run with the other soldier.

The book had been titled, _"The S̶u̶b̶j̶u̶g̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ Hopeless War."_, Tyler had been able to see the man's full name for only a moment, but he knew he wouldn't soon forget it. _"By C̶o̶r̶p̶o̶r̶a̶l̶ Sergeant Christopher McGraw, American, Human, United States Army, 1__st__ Battalion, 75__th__ Ranger Regiment."_

* * *

Entry No. 1:

_For thousands of years, we as a species thought we were alone in the universe. Our lack of substantial evidence had told us, almost bold facedly, that there couldn't be anything out there. Our religions would dictate that there is nothing but Man, that there was nothing but Man, and that there __will be nothing but Man._

_In the early days, not even a year ago, we didn't know what was happening right on our celestial doorstep. We as a species were still continuing on with our daily lives, working, saving lives, complaining about broken appliances, eating junk-food, fighting wars, etc., etc. We didn't know that there were aliens out there, We didn't know that the ET's that were entering our system were doing so with Big Fucking Bombs._

_We didn't know that the Invaders were planning to enslave us with the Subjugation War._

* * *

June 11th, 2013 (C.E.)

* * *

Aboard the Batarian Cruiser, _Shalanaza_, captain Shin Tso'Mal was smiling. His species had finally, after decades of pathetic groveling and grueling deliberation, been given rights to colonize further out into the Attican Traverse. Sensors had shown that this _particular_ sector of the Galaxy had at least one Garden World, and was actually amongst the closest planet to Khar'Shan since Tyber, the fifth planet the Hegemony had colonized. This garden world, which had been colloquially dubbed 'Reach' [Named so, because it was the Hegemony's first 'Reach' into the inner portion of the Galaxy], was about the same size as Khar'Shan, and was expected to have an almost unnoticeable gravitational difference.

This system had a Mass Relay within it, however the sensors had shown that it had been encased within ice. Unsheathing it was as simple as activating a relay [With the permission of the 'Illustrious' Citadel Council, of course], and just like that, the frozen relay broke off or melted the ice around it. The _Shalanaza_ had just completed Relay Transit, when the sensors had noticed something off about the readings in the system. At the time, it had been assumed that this was because of the younger sun in the system, giving off radiation that the sensors hadn't quite been used to. After a mere five standard minutes of scanning, it was revealed to them that it was not a radiation malfunction.

This system was inhabited, by a species that was so primitive, Tso'Mal had considered calling in the fleet to simply bomb the species to oblivion and put them out of their misery. A few hours of sifting through this species' satellite and information network, to obtain information and historical documents, while being hidden by the planet the Relay was orbiting, had shown them interesting data, which had, even for the Hegemony's vastly superior technology, taken them close to a week to create a translation software. The 'World Wide Web', as the 'Homo Sapiens', or 'Humans', called it, had an enormous amount of data to sift through, almost as much as the Extranet. The captain focused on the 'Humans' history, and had been surprised yet again that day. These Humans had been in a state of near-constant warfare for _over_ two millennia. That was longer than both the Rachni wars, and the Krogan rebellions _combined._ And apparently, there were hundreds - if not thousands _more_ - years of undocumented warfare even before 'Year One'. What Tso'Mal found interesting was how quickly these Humans had advanced, technologically, and how brutally efficient they were at warfare.

Merely a century ago, for instance, they had yet to even _consider_ the possibility of 'Mankind' taking to the skies and flying. However, when a war (Which they called 'World War 1') occurred not two decades later, aero-planes were almost a common occurrence, they were almost immediately brought into combat roles and used the world over. As if they were seeking to please their new, unknown, unseen masters, the Humans delved into another war not even a few decades after the first (Dubbed 'World War 2'), and had utilized even more rapidly advancing technologies. Automatic weapons, immensely powerful naval ships, and even more aero-planes were all used to great effect in this war; and further proving their tenacity and war-prone attitude, they developed atomic weapons and entered their Atomic-age, _during a war!_ They even proceeded to use said weapons on one of their enemies, an event only ever seen by the Krogan, and the gods _know_ how efficient they were at war. But the most impressive aspect was that these Humans were so effective, and so efficient at warfare, that despite overwhelming odds, even the smallest squad or battalion of soldiers could make _the_ difference in the war.

The Captain had sent all his findings to the Hegemony several months earlier, and it had taken the Hegemony only a _week_ to realize the potential in these people. For centuries - nay, _millennia! -_ the Hegemony had been a downtrodden race, seen unfit for councillorship by the Citadel Council. But their troop numbers rivaled even the Asari, and that was with _just_ their people, that didn't include their slave-warriors, or the legions of mercenaries they had at their finger tips; despite this, the Hegemony realized that would need only one advantage in a war to conquer the Citadel, and steal Galactic Rule from the cursed Council. The Hegemony quickly decided that these Humans would be the perfect soldiers, better than even the Krogan, because of their ingenuity, their ferocity, and their affinity for war, not to mention their intelligence, which immediately makes them superior to the Krogan. All the Hegemony would have to do, would be to subjugate them and enslave them. This would have to be done in secret, of course, and thus the Hegemony had decided to use its relatively vast wealth to hire entire organizations of mercenaries - hundreds of thousands of soldiers, from ex-Asari Commando, to the bloodiest Krogan battle master, and even the most blood-thirsty of Vorcha BattleVectors. A couple million more credits were needed to buy the Shadow Broker's silence, as well as the leaders of the mercenary organizations. Now, armed with the Mercenary Fleets, and their own _vastly_ superior marines, ships, and soldiers, they could easily dominate the Humans, break their collective backs, mold their men to be slave-warriors, their women to be pleasure-slaves, and their children to be workers.

It would take time, the Captain realized, as his crew reported the rest of the Invasion Fleet was arriving through the Relay, it would take some cunning, too. But Shin Tso'Mal _knew_ that he and his, would conquer these puny Humans, and burn their 'Earth'.

* * *

_Entry No. 1 (Cont):_

_While the Invaders were planning how properly to destroy the 'Puny Earthlings', we were still here, stuck on our planet, unable to strike back, unable to even call them on the telephone. Just sitting here, on our only planet, going about, business as usual. Hell, we didn't even know they were here until they'd already changed something in our 'Territory', and even then, it was months before the nerds at NASA realized what was happening._

_I'll say it here, and whomever reads this can quote me on it, I MISS Afghanistan. I'd gladly take eleven Afghan Wars - at the same time - instead of the Subjugation War, if that meant my species could continue to exist, continue to be ignorant of the galaxy around it._

* * *

June 11th, 2013 (C.E.)

* * *

At the Goddard Space Center, in Greenbelt, Maryland, the day was less than interesting. These words had come from the mouth of one of the head engineers of the center himself, Joseph Wayde. Not many days had he go so far as to say this, fewer were the days where he'd actually consider _praying_ to some God that something would happen. Anything would do, he would reason, during these brief spouts of boredom, he would even accept a possibly catastrophic event out on the edges of the Solar System. The most interesting thing that had ever happened in his history of working at the center had occurred several months ago, when an asteroid had slammed into Charon, and had literally split the ice-moon in two; thankfully, the asteroid had been halted entirely by the moon itself, and the few chunks that were moving towards the Earth would either get burned up in the atmosphere, or would be so small at the moment of impact that it would more than likely go unnoticed by the people in the immediate vicinity.

At least, that's what they'd _told_ everyone. The National Aeronautics and Space Administration had genuinely thought that an asteroid had hit Charon. But when the cosmic dust had settled, they'd immediately learned different, when, in Charon's place, was an immense object, _clearly_ mechanical in nature. NASA had checked, rechecked, and then checked it again sixteen times, before they figured out that they weren't being played by the boys at Langley. They were almost _literally_ staring at ET's tuning fork.

This had caused the President's jaw to drop, obviously. No one knew what the 'Tuning Gate' was doing there, or how it had gone so long without being discovered. It had almost immediately received a dedicated satellite, because almost everyone in the Department of Defense believed that, if it had activated so suddenly, there _had_ to be a reason; and being the jarheads they are, they assumed it was with military reasons.

It had been a rather tricky situation, after that. Almost _all_ of the world's space agencies reported the same thing, and all of them gave the same NASA Cover-up about the meteor. And just like the United States, many militarily capable countries believed that the Tuning Gate could have been activated for military purposes, and had started bringing troops home from the Middle East _en masse._ Even the US, who had said they'd get the troops home at the end of 2014, had to massively accelerate its plans in light of this possible threat.

Wayde himself thought it was stupid, why would aliens travel untold light years just to start a war? Surely they would have evolved, societally, past the need for war, yes? But, he reasoned, it's not like he can change the mind of the same governmental body that had brought the nation seventeen trillion dollars in debt, so he kept his mouth shut, and his ear to the void, secretly giddy at the prospect of alien contact.

Things hadn't _ever_ gotten so exciting, since then. The adrenaline rush from the prospect of meeting actual, _real_ aliens, had been addictive. This was a fact that Wayde would never admit, but he knew it to be true. Wayde was currently on break, he was sitting in the miniature cafeteria, eating a McDonalds hamburger he'd bought a couple blocks away, and had brought back here, and was currently exploring the latest news websites on his smart phone. A begrudging fact that, like many, _many_ others, he didn't want to admit, was that he was enraptured by foreign events. More specifically, the situation that was occurring in North Korea. The mere idea that he might knowingly be living on the eve of an enormous, possibly _nuclear_ war, was enticing; this was why he didn't hear his co-worker shouting his name, until the annoying woman was jostling his shoulder.

"Wayde… Mister Wayde, sir?" The woman said, trying to rouse his attention with a light shove.

"Hm?" Wayde looked up and saw the scientist, a rather unattractive brunette woman, who looked nothing like his wife, with pale white skin and several clusters of poorly concealed zits on her nose, cheek, and forehead, "Yes? What is it?" He asked, his Australian accent cutting through the air.

"The engineers are frantic, they _told_ me to get you!" The woman responded.

Wayde suppressed a scowl at this, once again proving his justified dislike of this woman, she still thought that the entire world revolved around her. Despite the fact that she, quite literally, knew the opposite to be true. Wayde shut his phone off, and finished his burger, "What do they need? Did they say?" He asked, wiping his face with a napkin and depositing the trash in the nearest trash bin.

"Not really, I heard something about an object orbiting Pluto, but when they raised their voices to get me to leave and find you, I stopped listening." She said, as she led the doctor to the laboratory.

After a few minutes' journey, Wayde and the woman entered the room, where a rather large crowd had gathered around one specific cluster of desks. An image was being broadcasted onto one of the largest screens on the wall in front of them, Wayde immediately realized what was happening, when he saw what was on the screen.

"Alright, who was the poor, poor idiot who put an image of a space ship on the TV?" Wayde asked, his loud, deep accented voice silencing the room, as he walked down to join the crowd, which parted for him as he went through.

When he neared the engineer who manned the station everyone was crowding around, he received his response, "Sir… I've… No damn way to tell you this… But… This isn't a joke…" He said.

Wayde looked at the man skeptically. The man's name was James, he thought, James Thomas, something like that. He was a fresh-out-of-college worker, the signature 'Bright-Eyed' NASA engineer, who more than likely did exactly what Wayde had done, and joined wanting to discover something new, and change the course of Humanity; instead, he, like Wayde and so many others, got sucked into the same pattern of routine daily life at the Goddard Space Center, and would slowly feel his dreams bleed out of him like a fresh wound.

"James, right?" The man nodded, "I don't know what the others have told you, but we _don't_ actually do things like this." Wayde said, "Not since one of ours tried to convince Kennedy, and nearly ended up getting the moon-landing canceled." He stated, "And given the very... sensitive... subject matter you are dealing with, how about you cut the image editor out, and tell us it was a joke?" Wayde asked.

"Sir, it's… _Not_ a joke! Look!" James fiddled with his computer, and zoomed in on a specific section of the screen, "See that? Right there, just behind the… Well, what I _think_ is the machine's engines?" He asked.

Wayde leaned in, humoring the kid, "Looks like a meteorite." He shrugged.

"That's ice, sir. It's a shard of Charon… But that's nowhere near as interesting as this…" James zoomed in on a different section of the screen, the back end of another, smaller-looking machine could be seen. This one was glowing a fierce blue, and had some sort of ring structure rotating around the fierce blue orb. "This is the machine that came from Charon's corpse, the one we covered up. I think that the ship might have used the Charon-Object to come here..."

Wayde's patience was wearing thin, he was expecting this to turn into one of those 'Scream' videos his son was so in to, or perhaps a very, _very_ odd way of expressing the desire to meet a _real_ alien. "What are you saying… _That_ ship -" He pointed to the ship, "Came from the Monolith that destroyed Charon?" He inquired.

"Er…" James muttered, Wayde inwardly smiled, he must have asked a question the man hadn't thought up an answer for. "I… I don't know, sir. I just detected the ship on the Charon-oriented satellite." He said, "I saw this… So… I… Um… I don't have anything else, there's a frigging alien space ship orbiting Pluto, and it's sitting there." James deadpanned.

"Call up the guys at the KSC, consider calling the ESA." Said Wayde, "If I get conflicting reports from both of them, someone's losing their job." He stated, leaving the office.

* * *

_Entry No. 1 (Cont.):_

_I'd said we here on good ol' planet Earth were going about, business as usual, and I meant it. The last 'normal' day I had was June 12th, 2013, my fucking birthday. My girlfriend and I had a pretty heated argument the day before, my squad and I had been called in to assist some SEALs in a Search and Rescue operation. If you want to think about it in a harsh way, we were the 'Fall Guys'. The SEALs were heading in to conduct some sort of assassination on some Al Qaeda leader, who happened to be sitting on a big-ass pile of POW's, or hostage/refugees, I don't remember too clearly. So while the SEALs were doing stealth and espionage, we were, in essence, blowing shit up and causing the world's best distraction for the Frog Men._

_Anyways, my girlfriend and I had a heated argument on the 11th, she'd been planning a big huge surprise birthday 'party', for the big 30. I say 'Party', because in reality, I've only got about… Six or seven guys I'd feel confident calling my 'friends'. Five guys in my squad, one an old high-school friend of mine I haven't talked to in six months. She was angry because she'd taken a lot of time to set this up, and she'd heard about our sudden need for deployment through the Sergeant, and not me. (Thanks, Sarge!) After we'd been screaming at each other for a good two hours was when I'd had to cut off the argument and head out to Ft. Benning._

_A lot of folks in my platoon were wondering why we were even conducting this mission, seeing as how The Government had suddenly shit its pants and started bringing everyone home. Granted, back then, we didn't know that The Government had shit its pants because it thought we were about to be invaded by Aliens._

_Still, looking back, I never knew how long it'd be until I would see her again._

_I never expected The Subjugation War._

_No one did._

* * *

_"Two minutes!"_ He heard the pilot call over the radio, as they flew over the sands of Afghanistan.

They were sitting in a Stealth helicopter, 'Dagger Squad', they were called. Five Heli's, with five Rangers in each. Christopher McGraw was strapped into the chair furthest from the canopy door, which was to open in at least two minutes, according to the pilot. He held his dog tags between his forefinger and his thumb, rubbing them between his fingers as if he would make some sort of spell by doing so.

"Hey Chris, you tryin' to rub off the name on those tags?" Asked one of Chris' squad mates, Jack, his name was, his southern accent filled the helicopter, and permeated the helmets and radios of everyone in the vicinity.

"I heard about the argument with you and Alison, man." Said another, correctly guessing the source of Chris' anxiety.

"I think she'll calm down soon enough." Chris muttered, just loud enough to be picked up by the microphone.

"You know… It's probably not my place to say, but I think she's _looking_ for somethin' bro." Said Jack, "Something with a bigassed rock on it…" He said, slowly, so he knew Chris would hear it.

"You dumbass redneck, maybe down in Texas they use rocks, but us city folk use diamonds." Said another Ranger, Private Allen, his cheeky remark earning the chuckles of everyone who heard.

"Hey, I may be a redneck, but at least I've _got_ a lady. Where the hell's _your_ girl, city-boy?" Jack asked, earning his own round of chuckles.

"Seriously though, what do you think, Chris? Time to tie the knot?" Asked Allen.

Chris shrugged, dropping his tag and tucking it under his uniform, "I dunno." He said, putting a bit more strength into his naturally deep voice, "Most likely, is what she's looking for. But… Hell, half the time we argue, it's about me leaving for something. Do you really expect that to change with a ring?" He asked.

_"Sixty seconds!"_ The Pilot called.

"Maybe you should just hash it out with her." Said Jack, "Be like: Look _bitch_, I'm out there gettin' shot at for a living, what're you doing again? Veterinarian?" Chris smiled despite himself, one thing he, Jack, and most everyone in Dagger 1-1 had in common was having fun at others' expense, "I may not be making as much money as you, but it's because of _my_ job that you can do _your_ job! So if you don't like it, then get the hell out!" He pretended to point at the 'door', to emphasize his point.

"Thanks, Jack." Said Chris, a smile still on his face.

_"Thirty Seconds!"_ They heard.

"Alright, if you ladies are going to stop talking about your problems, can we start talking about our Country's?" Sergeant Fuller, Dagger 1-1's squad leader, asked, "You know our prime objective. We're heading in to find hostages and refugees, to make life living hell for the terrorist SOB's keeping 'em held there, and to make life a bit easier for the SEALs." He said, "Any questions?"

"How're we going to be able to tell who's who? How many frog-men are heading in there?" Allen inquired.

"We've got NVG's [Night Vision Goggles], and friendlies have IR [Infrared] Strobes. If you see a strobe, don't shoot it." Said Fuller, "And we've got six SEALs heading in."

_"Ten seconds!"_ Said the pilot, before he hit the red light.

Immediately following that, all talk and activity in the several helicopters ceased as the Rangers un-strapped, stood up, and waited for the light to go green. Ten seconds passed, before the pilots switched the lights green, and the canopy door opened up and a second after it extended all the way, the Rangers dived out into the cold night air of the Afghanistan desert. They were miles into the air, and would have several seconds before they would have to deploy their parachutes.

_"Twelve O' Clock, looks like a mile or two, headlights just flashed. Those our guys?"_ Came a voice Chris only barely recognized, he assumed it was from another Dagger squad.

_"Most likely. Heard those SEALs went in a less conspicuous, more silent way."_ Said another Ranger.

The next few moments were silent, before one man declared he was deploying his parachute. A moment after that, the radio was filled with parachute deployment reports. Chris waited just a single moment before he too deployed his parachute. The familiar feeling of a sudden stop, and the rush of blood to his head occurred as he slowed down, thanks to the parachute now deployed above him. As he slowed down to a relatively safe speed, Chris executed the same practice he would each time he did a para-drop. He took two deep breaths, and allowed the fear to flow into him.

For five seconds, Chris allowed fear to seep into and through every inch of his body. Fear for failure, fear for death, general fear, it all flowed through him, and it overwhelmed him. But the moment the five seconds were up, he opened his eyes, and it all seemed to evaporate. He looked down, and saw that he had just a few more hundred meters until he hit the ground. He took a moment to go over his equipment, one M4A1, with an EOTech sight and a suppressor, one M9 Pistol, four fragmentation grenades and flash bang grenades, ten magazines for his M4, and five for his pistol, which equated to 300 rounds for his rifle, and 75 for his pistol, not including the rounds already loaded into the weapons. He quickly checked his night vision goggles, which worked perfectly. Chris was now only fifty meters from the ground, he took a deep breath and held it tightly.

The second he hit the ground, Chris exhaled and bent his knees, just barely managing to keep his balance and keep from falling onto his side. He quickly gathered up his parachute and took off the pack, before he buried it under some sand. He shouldered his rifle and made sure the sights worked, they did, and he chambered a round before he reported his status. He and a few others had drifted a few dozen meters off course, but the compound they were looking for was still in sight, so he made his way towards it, vigilant of anything that an enemy could use to hide behind, in, or under.

* * *

_Entry No. 1 (Cont.):_

_A parallel could be drawn between this mission, and the Subjugation Wars. The 'Evil Americans' heavily outnumbered the Taliban forces, and had much better equipment (They had AK47's and regular eye sight, we had M4's, NVG's, Kevlar, Grenades of all types, AT Missiles, etc. etc.), in the Afghan/Iraq wars. The Invaders had technology that far surpassed ours, and numbers to boot. They said 'History Repeats Itself', I never knew how true that was._

* * *

_"Dr. Wayde, can I venture a guess as to why you're calling?" _The man on the other end of the telephone asked.

"Excuse me, director, but I seem to be calling at a moment of slight stress. One of the 'noobs' in our center tried to pull a trick, you know the one, where they just take a bunch of pictures from 'alien sighting' websites and put 'em on the big screen. The man in question refuses to admit his deceit, so I've decided to humor him, and here I am." Said Joseph Wayde, his eyes only briefly resting upon the computer screen in front of him, which was supposed to be giving him a live image from Pluto, but was not because of some technical glitch that the other engineers were working frantically to fix.

_"Tell me, Joseph… This alien ship trick… Is it orbiting Pluto?" _The man asked.

"Yes sir…" Said Wayde, slightly caught off guard that he'd guessed correctly.

_"And in the background, can you see the 'Tuning Gate', with a big bright blue center?"_

Now Wayde was a little anxious, and his disbelief was beginning to wane, "We… Only caught the back end of the object… Sir…" He said.

"Well… You're seeing the same thing we are. I got off the phone with the ESA just a few quarters of an hour ago, same thing, but they claim to have seen six ships."

"Sir?" Wayde's disbelief was rapidly evaporating at this point, all he needed was a single, definitive sentence, one that could be the single most important in all of the history of the Human Race.

_"I've spoken with everyone I can on this, Doctor… I'm even scheduled to meet POTUS in a few hours to bring this to _his_ attention… But we've got living proof, now… Undeniable… Unquestionable… Facts. We are not alone."_

* * *

_"McGraw, Sanders give me suppressin' fire on a cluster of tangos, ten O' Clock low, forty five meters!" _Chris heard Jack call out.

"Suppressing fire, heard! On three!" McGraw shouted, almost instantly knowing what Jack was trying to do. The Rangers had been able to identify one of the shacks as one of the three that held hostages, thanks to the Satellite images they'd been given earlier. The cluster of enemies Jack had specified was just a few meters from the first of three large shanty shacks. Chris was almost certain that Jack planned to link up with another Ranger that was pinned down, and after a few moments, use a path the other Ranger couldn't yet see to flank the enemies.

"One!…" Shouted Sanders, as he prepped his Squad Automatic Weapon.

"Two!…" Shouted McGraw, as he tested the weight of his M4, he assumed he had a half magazine, give or take a few bullets, before he would be dry and would have to reload.

"Three!" Jack called out.

"Suppressing!" Called Chris, right before he and Private Sanders peeked over cover and fired at the enemy targets Jack had picked out earlier. Chris could see at least five enemies, but he assumed that there could be two or three down reloading their weapons, or hiding from bullets, given the enemies' size and their spacing.

"I'm moving!" Shouted Jack, after he slapped in a new magazine into his M4, and chambered a round. He whipped around the small concrete slab the three had been using as cover, and sprinted off to the northeast. Before Chris had to dip back down into cover, he saw the dilapidated, wooden shack that Jack was rushing towards, and the Ranger he was trying to link up with.

_"McGraw!"_ It was Sergeant Fuller, _"I've got contacts on the roof, two with RPG's, I'm pinned down, can you see 'em? My twelve!"_

Chris looked to his left, and saw, about a dozen meters over, Sergeant Fuller hiding behind a large stone column. Chris used Fuller's position to gauge the location of the RPG wielders, he leaned out of cover for a few moments and saw the men Fuller had called out, before a few bullets peppered his position. He just barely felt one graze over his right shoulder, but a quick inspection proved his invaluable luck, as he saw no blood, and therefore, no injury.

"I see the RPG's, Sergeant! Give me three seconds, I'll take 'em out!" Chris shouted into the radio, as he ejected the magazine from his rifle, and put in a new one.

_"Hurry, I think they're loading up to fire!" _Chris heard another Ranger, this one probably on another team, declare.

Chris waited those three seconds for the bullets to stop peppering his position. Thankfully they let up, Chris could hear some raised voices shout in a different language, and he assumed that someone inside the main building had discovered the SEALs, who'd given a short, discreet message a while ago declaring their entry. Chris quickly leaned out of cover and shouldered his rifle; it took him just a few moments to find and sight in on the RPG wielding enemies, and just a moment after that for his rifle to cough out three rounds into the first of the two. Unfortunately for the man he hadn't yet shot, the former had clenched the trigger of the rocket launcher just as he fell forward from Chris' gunfire. The rocket propelled grenade had a grand journey of three feet before it slammed into the roof, and exploded. The entire building seemed to shake because of this, and the roof's structural integrity seemed much less sound, as it quickly started caving in on itself, the second RPG lost his footing and ended up falling inside the building, he launched his rocket as well, but it flew wildly off course, and ended up detonating far away from the compound.

_"Damn, 1-1, what do I have to do to get into _your_ team?"_ The light-toned voice of another Ranger asked.

_"Start blowin' shit up, 1-4... Start blowin' shit up."_ Came Jack's voice, and a moment later, _"Enemy group, KIA. You can move up now, guys, this balcony is clear."_

_"Roger that, McGraw, you and Whyte head over to that shack, check for hostages."_

"Understood." Said Chris.

_"Copy that."_ Said Jack, as he and Chris both moved towards the shack, rifles raised, constantly scanning and being aware of their surrounding, knowing from experience that enemies could pop up anywhere, any when.

It only took the two a few moments to stack up on opposite sides of the wooden door leading into the small shack. It had to be the same size as a small garage, but it smelled, in Chris' opinion, like shit. Chris almost immediately assumed that the enemies were only providing the hostages basic sustenance, but things beyond that, such as clothing, sleeping quarters, or even a place to relieve themselves, was to be found within the shack.

"Congratulations, my deadened nose and the flies have elected you to open that door." Jack said, pulling a bandana over his nose, so he could keep his hands on his rifle.

"Thanks, Jack-ass." Said Chris, as he slowly went to test the door knob. He felt no resistance when he jostled it a little, so he assumed that there wasn't a cluster of grenades attached to the handle, waiting for some unwitting American, or whomever may be there, to open the door and set them off.

Chris slowly turned the doorknob, and it opened without any resistance. The two were presented with a rather gruesome sight, the men and women inside weren't emaciated, or starved, but there were several corpses in the back, with discolored skin and sunken faces.

_Must have executed a few of them to prove a point…_ Chris realized with grim certainty. The surviving hostages looked to the American with a suddenly renewed sense of hope. One of them started crying tears of joy when he lowered his rifle to call it in.

_"Sergeant Fuller, we've got hostages in Shack A, we've also got some H-KIA. How goes things in your sector?"_ He asked.

_"We're meeting light resistance as we head through the building, but Frogger has already been through here. We've got some people in the main building's basement clearing it out, and the top floor is clear apart from one or two confused terrorists."_ Fuller responded, _"We got reports from shacks B and C, B had a full stock of dead hostages, they checked, no one was alive. Shack C was almost the same as what you described, but it had a bunch of kids, in place of adults."_

Chris looked to Jack, "Ask them if they've got kids. Tell 'em we're here to help, but we need to know how many we're extracting." He said.

"Got it." Said Jack, before he moved inside the shack to talk to the hostages.

"Anything else?" Chris asked into the radio.

_"Not at the moment, 1-3 found an ammo dump in the eastern part of the building, they're setting up some explosives, just for you Birthday Boy."_ Fuller said, lightly chuckling at the end.

"Hahaha, Sergeant. McGraw out." Said Chris, with a smile on his face.

* * *

_Entry No. 1 (Cont.):_

_The rest of the mission went as expected, we extracted by air, we deposited the hostages at an Army Base in some town with a name I can't spell, next day we went home and did what we usually did after a 'quick' deployment in Afghan, had a crap-ton of Burgers and Beers, and watched the shittiest TV shows we could find. I'm talking, 'Jersey Shore' bad._

_We didn't know that it'd be the last time we'd ever do something like that. We had no damn clue that some unnamed, abandoned base in Afghanistan would be the very last 'normal' mission we would have before the Subjugation War._

_- Cpl. Chris McGraw, 75th Ranger Regiment._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Book One**_

* * *

_The Subjugation War_

* * *

_Chapter 1:_

_June 13__th__, 2013_

* * *

_"…In our obsession with antagonisms of the moment, we often forget how much unites all the members of humanity. Perhaps we need some outside, Universal Threat to make us recognize this common bond. I occasionally think how quickly our differences worldwide would vanish if we were facing an Alien Threat from outside this world. And yet, I ask you, is not an Alien Force already among us? What could be more alien to the universal aspirations of our peoples than war and the threat of war?…" Ronald Reagan _

* * *

_Entry No. 2:_

_I never actually learned what my Brother was doing, during the war effort. When we were sent in to aid in the Georgian front, all I was able to learn was that he'd taken him, several of his friends, and some other people who he knew would be useful, and fled into the mountains. A sound strategy, but I guess it never surprised me, he was always the guy with the 'End of the World' plans. I didn't get to stay around long enough to confirm this though._

_(Remember Atlanta)_

* * *

Troy Williams woke up with a groan. Today was a Saturday, the second he'd had since he finished college. His day's schedule was filled primarily with one thing: Job Interviews. Unlike his deadbeat Dad and his deceased step-mother, Troy and his Brother actually had career aspirations. Troy wanted to pursue a career in law enforcement, whereas his step-brother had run off to join the Army the first chance he'd gotten. Troy smiled as he thought of his brother, Chris, the two might have been at odds when they'd met but all it took was _one_ day at high-school to change all that around. Now Troy felt that, aside from perhaps his buddy Cj, Chris was one of the people that he could readily entrust his life to.

Troy swung his legs out of bed and slammed his hand onto the alarm, it was about Nine O' Clock in the morning, Troy knew he had two hours until he _had_ to be on the road if he wanted to get to Clayton County with some time to spare. Troy stood up and stretched his back, before he exited his room and walked to the kitchen. Troy would give his Dad _one_ thing, he'd held a job long enough to get him and his Brother a house to live in, under high school. Of course, not a day after Troy had graduated (Top of his class, a 4.0 average) Ronald - Troy's father, and Chris' step-dad - had gotten in some sort of altercation at the Bank of America and got fired as a result. Troy would _not_ miss him, if and _when_ he moved out.

Troy went through his morning routine with ease, he made a few slices of toast for breakfast, and combed his short, dirty blonde hair straight backwards, causing the hair on his scalp to raise almost vertically for a few moments. After doing so, Troy got dressed in his best outfit and made his way outside. He was greeted with a lovely sight, his 90's Ford pick-up truck. He was _proud_ of this car, he and Chris had saved up for two years to get it cheap, and it took them another half year to get it fixed up enough to run. Sure it wasn't the prettiest thing, but _damn_ if it didn't get its job done, ever since the fix-her-up job Chris and Troy had done, it hadn't broken down _once_.

Troy was sure that the people of his neighborhood (A failing one, full of the welfare families who rely on the state to pay their bills and give 'em homes) must have had some kind of pride in the truck as well, because the local hoodlums hadn't _touched_ the thing since it had been fixed. Granted, Troy was sure that the fact that Chris was Special Forces, and had come out waving a pistol when they tried to take it last time he was here, definitely helped. Troy got into the truck and started it up, feeling the familiar roar of the engine he and Chris had spent hours haggling to get it half priced.

"Oh yeah, girl, that's what I like to hear." Said Troy, tapping the wheel a few times, before he shifted into reverse and left the driveway.

As he left the subdivision and started making his way to the Police Department with which he'd set up an interview, he turned on the radio. Chris had been deployed overseas the other day, and usually Troy could hear some sort of mention of the Rangers whenever they were involved in something. Granted, ever since the President had signed some executive order to bring _everyone_ home, ASAP, the news stations were less focused on the War on Terror's sudden conclusion, and more focused on _why_ it had ended so quickly. They'd expected it to take a year or two to get everyone home, yet the last few weeks had seen more troops coming home than the last half year combined.

_"NASA scientists are still baffled as to the origins of the 'Charon Comet', that recently slammed into and -"_

"Nope." He switched the channel.

_"In other news, the European Space Agency has warned the citizens of Berlin to keep a watchful eye on the sky, as they predict chards from Charon to -"_

"Nope." Again he switched the channel.

_"… Are, hiding something!"_ Troy actually enjoyed this channel, it was a local one, some idiotic conspiracy theorist had bought a few thousand dollars worth of radio equipment and began broadcasting his 'secret information', Chris didn't quite like the channel, he said it was because he just wasn't in to the 'conspiracy theorist end of the world' stuff, but Troy would tease Chris by saying it was because he was in the Special Forces, and he actually _knew_ some of what the guy was saying. _"I mean… A comet? Really guys? You'd have to be an _idiot_ to believe this stuff! I mean, if there _was_ a comet coming in to our Solar System, they would have announced it a _looooooong _time ago! There would have been a press conference, like the Americans love so much, and then they would have given some stupid name, and then we would forget about it in a week. But no, it just suddenly _showed up_ and broke a frickin' _moon!?_ Sorry Governments, I'm not buying it."_ The man paused, probably to take a drink, _"I've got inside sources, you see, that say that it _wasn't_ a comet… And that there was _something else_ there, that the government doesn't want us to know about, just yet! Yes, my friends, I'm talking about aliens. Before you change the channel! Hear me out!"_ The guy pleaded, _"Seriously. What kind of comet could break apart an entire moon, and leave such small chunks that all we'll be feeling is slight rain in Germany? No, this is the beginning of something _far_ worse! We're on the precipice, of an alien… Invasion!"_

"And now _I've_ lost interest." Said Troy, he switched off the radio. Troy was a very doubtful person, he didn't believe in any sort of god, he didn't believe in Bigfoot, he didn't believe in ghosts, and he didn't believe in aliens. All for many different, and many similar reasons, but one reason was chief among them all: There was _no concrete evidence!_ Sure, you got the idiots out there who 'spotted flying saucers' every now and again and put it up on the internet, but if you were tech-savvy like Troy was, you could see the video editing - from incredibly cheep and lazy, to subtle and experienced - and tell it was a fake video. As for the God thing, he subscribed to the 'Da' Vinci Code' theory, that Jesus was real, and he believed in a God, and that he got everyone else to do so, but he wasn't any 'prodigal son', but rather just a man, like everyone else.

Those sentiments got Troy into trouble, many times, during his school years, he lived in Georgia, a _very_ highly religious state in the southern continental United States, in a region known locally as 'The Bible Belt'. This was one topic where Chris and Troy tended to differ, Chris was the 'light' believer, meaning he tended to believe in a higher power, but not in a _single, specific_ higher power. Chris' beliefs tended to line up with Christian Theocracy, but he tended to believe in what he thought was true, which had at several points gotten him thrown out of a church, when he asked questions based upon the beliefs the churches were trying to force-feed him.

Troy was ripped from his thoughts by the sound of a car horn, he looked in his rearview just in time to see a speeding car swerve to the right, and take off in front of him, the driver flipped him off as he passed.

"Oh, fuck you too buddy." Thought Troy, as he noticed his turn coming up.

* * *

_Entry No. 2 (Cont.):_

_Of course, when we got back to the base and were told to stay put, we just assumed some CIA Big-Wigs would end up coming down to ask us about the dead/dying refugees we'd found in the compound, so we spent the night celebrating my Birthday, which has passed while we were still in transit back to the States._

_One of the last days on 'Free Earth' (Though we wouldn't know it), and we decided to spend it like we usually would: Beers, and messing with Joe._

* * *

"You sure he's out?" Asked Chris, looking from Jack Whyte, to Joe Sanders, who was passed out from the group's celebratory round of drinks the night before.

Dagger-Squad had been confined to the base for reasons not elaborated upon, so they ended up breaking out several packs of beers to celebrate Chris' thirtieth birthday, and the successful completion of their mission, with no casualties sustained, and only minor injuries reported. Chris had stayed sane enough not to drink past a light buzz, Whyte had stopped after he ended up spilling an entire can on his bunk, and Fuller made him clean it and Chris', as the alcohol had dripped onto it as well. The rest of the squad had quit drinks after a while, save for Joe Sanders, who ended up passing out drunk in the barracks. His drunken mind had at least kept enough reason to make him pass out on his bed, and he was incredibly lucky that they hadn't any missions or deployments today, so he wouldn't have to worry about being hung-over on the job.

That didn't stop Chris McGraw and Jack Whyte from getting the devious idea to wake him up, though. There was a price for drinking so much that you passed out, and in Dagger Squad, that price _wasn't_ a hangover.

" 'Course, man, check it out -" Whyte raised his voice to a light shout, "Sanders! Sanders, get the hell up man you're about to be… Hit by a truck!" He called, Sanders responded with a snore, "See? He's out cold." Whyte said, with a devious grin.

"Alright, then…" Said Chris, as he pulled out his iPod, he was known on base for having some of the loudest Heavy Metal music libraries on hand, and when coupled with Whyte's portable speakers, they could wreak some havoc if they chose. Thankfully the two knew where the line had to be drawn, most of the time.

The two Rangers snuck over to Sanders, they froze when he shifted in his sleep, but moved again when it was apparent that he wouldn't be waking. Whyte connected Chris' MP3 player to the speaker, and then plugged it into the outlet a few beds over, nearly running out of cord doing so. Whyte gave Chris a thumbs up, Chris selected a specific song on the machine, and ran off to join Whyte at the doorway.

"What song did you choose?"

"Sweet Child o' Mine." Chris had an evil smile on his face as he pointed the remote at the machine, "Give me a count."

"Your evil, _evil_ ass is clear in three… two… one… Go!" Said Whyte, tapping Chris on the shoulder. Immediately, Chris clicked the 'play' button on the remote, and the Guns n' Roses song began playing, full-blast, just a few feet from Sanders' ear.

By the end of the first chord, the two got their desired effect.

_"AAAAUGH!"_ Screamed the Ranger, as he suddenly began flailing about, _"What's going on?!"_ He shouted, before he fell out of the bed, with a loud grunt.

Quickly he started scrambling to get out of the bed and as far away from the offending, noisy machine as he could, Jack and Chris were fighting from doubling over from laughter, "God damn it, I should've brought a frickin' camera!" Shouted Jack, through a fit of laughter. After a few more minuted passed, Chris shut off the machine and strolled into the room, chuckling.

"You look pale, Sanders, something scare you?" Chris asked, his voice a little louder than usual.

"_Stuff it_ McGraw!" Sanders tried to shout, though it didn't get over a dull groan, Sanders instead decided to grab his pillow and throw it at Chris. Chris caught the object and tossed it back, Sanders' slowed reaction time didn't allow him to react to it before it was already just a few inches from his face. "You rat _bastard_, why'd you go and do that?" Sanders demanded, though Chris could see the makings of a smirk on his face.

"Because, you drunk redneck, it was hilarious." Chris stated, as he disconnected the speaker from the wall, and gathered it up in his arms.

"Hey, I take offense to that!" Whyte chuckled, as he came into the room to take his speakers.

"Oh god, now I know where the speakers came from." Groaned Sanders, as he slowly got to his feet.

"I'm going to get you two for this." Sanders chuckled, as the three left the room, "Just you fuckin' wait." He said, though the smirk on his face said differently.

* * *

The Batarian Light-Cruiser _Porland _was at the head of the invasion fleet. Shin Tso'Mal would have much rather taken _his_ vessel, the undefeatable _Shalanaza,_ but nothing above light-cruiser could indefinitely hover in-atmosphere. Despite it, he knew this plan wouldn't fail; it had taken months of meticulous planning to get all the ships in this system, and days more to get the ships to hide in the orbit of the blue planet they'd appeared next to. Thankfully the Council hadn't asked too many questions, as this was - by virtue of technicality - _Batarian_ territory. If they really wanted to ask, they could say the Humans were illegally trespassing, and they were defending their people's interests.

"Estimated Time of Arrival, six minutes, captain." Said a crewman, Shin Tso'Mal smiled. The invasion plan was fool proof, they had learned that the 'United States of America' was amongst the most powerful military nations on the 'Earth' (The Humans used the term 'Superpower'), followed by the 'People's Republic of China', and then the 'Russian Federation'. The latter two weren't - as far as Tso'Mal cared or understood - 'Superpowers', but the Earth Nations all but agreed and understood that if any one nation were to engage the other, both nations would fight each other to the point of mutual destruction. The Humans actually had a _term_ for such a scenario, it was created several decades ago during an event they called the 'Cold War', it was an acronym that translated to 'MAD', it meant 'Mutually Assured Destruction', meaning that the two nations fighting each other were so powerful, that they would destroy each other if they fought. Ironically, it was the 'MAD' concept that kept so many nations at a state of relative peace. The Hegemony had decided that the Earth's separate nations would be a blessing _and_ a curse, it would mean that the Humans were deeply divided, and that they would be less willing to help their brothers-in-species, but would also mean that they would have _many_ soldiers, willing to fight and die for their countries and their world.

Tso'Mal smiled, it wouldn't matter in the end, with the Hegemony's plans, the Earth nations wouldn't even have a chance to increase their military readiness. In a war that Humans called 'Blitzkrieg', the Hegemony would fight and destroy their militaries. It would take a month, _maybe_ two. All they had to do was touch down in the 'United States', and demand to see the 'President' of the country, if Tso'Mal remembered the man's name correctly, it was 'Barack Obama'. The Human would more than likely be endeared by the _superior_ race, and would elect to meet him in some sort of world headquarters. Tso'Mal would use a body-double to meet the President, and the world's leaders, and when they were all in one place, the _Shalanaza _would strike the building from orbit, thus starting the Subjugation 'War'.

"Master-Captain Tso'Mal, we are entering the atmosphere." Said a navigator.

"Order the ships to begin positioning themselves. Where does this 'President' reside?" Tso'Mal demanded.

"They call it… The District of Columbia."

"We shall park above the President's White House, and will begin communications immediately after fifteen minutes have passed." He ordered.

"Understood, sir."

* * *

In Washington DC, the Oval Office was a blaze of activity. Not a day previously, the President of the United States of America had been informed of the very real, very present, and very possible threat of _alien_ life forms. Not a quarter of an hour ago the ships - over a hundred, at least - that the Aliens had brought disappeared, NASA had at first believed the Aliens had left to make a report, bring the existence of the Human Race to the rest of the Galaxy, but just a few minutes ago the ships reappeared in Earth's orbit, and one ship had made its way into Earth's atmosphere.

Heading _directly _for the White House.

United States President Obama was being urged by two separate parties, to do two separate things. The politicians all but demanded he stay in the White House and greet the Aliens, if that was in fact their purpose, but the military leaders all but begged that he evacuate and leave the negotiations to a double, or the Vice President. Obama was divided, he saw the point that both parties had made, but also saw the faults of both arguments. If he stayed, and met with the aliens, who was to say that they weren't bringing with them some alien disease? He could get infected and not know it, and could then spread the disease all throughout the Earth. But then of course, if he left and left the duties to a double, the aliens might _know._ If they were advanced enough to travel the stars, and harvest moons to create transportation technology, cracking through radio and satellite encryptions should be childs play, yes? Another point made was what if the Aliens were coming with hostile intentions? He _had_ to consider the continuity of government, and he had to consider it within the next hour.

Obama rested his head on his hands, and sighed deeply, the room quieted, recognizing that he'd made a decision.

"Secretary Hagel, there was an air-traffic cessation order issued when we noticed the Aliens were moving to Earth, yes?" Asked Obama, referring to the United States Air Traffic plan, 'SCATANA', or the 'Security Control of Air Traffic and Navigation Aides', which was meant to be able to quickly and effectively _end_ all air traffic over the United States. It had been in existence for decades, but had only ever been used once before, on September 11th, 2001.

United States Secretary of Defense Chuck Hagel nodded, "Yes sir, mister President. While not as… Disorderly as it was on the Eleventh, we are effectively ending all air traffic above the United States. We expect all planes to be grounded safely within the hour. Our Armed Forces have been placed on DEFCON 3, and have been ordered to be ready to switch to DEFCON 2 at any moment." He answered.

The President wanted to ask Hagel what he suggested he do, if anything to delay having to make the decision just a little longer, but Hagel had made it clear that he was on the 'Bunker Down and Hide' party, he'd said that Biden could handle this, and if this did turn into a war, the President would be needed alive to access the 'Nuclear Football', and decide whether or not to use the United States' admittedly _vast_ Nuclear Arsenal. The Polotician debaters had noted that the Vice President was more than capable of accessing the Football, and that if the worst came, Obama could be evacuated more than fast enough, whatever building the Aliens decided to touch down upon, the Secret Service could keep an exit open and ready for Obama to use.

Obama sighed again, but a bit lighter this time, before he nodded, "Alright. I'm staying, evacuate Joe and get him somewhere safe and secure. If something happens, our forces are to be placed on DEFCON 1 and counter attacks are to be made immediately." He stated.

Obama had expected the ones who argued for him to evacuate, to continue to argue, and in the biting, still silence that followed his declaration, he thought they would; but a few moments passed, and Hagel nodded, "Understood sir." He said, "God be with us." He added, ominously, before the room began to clear out.

* * *

Troy Williams sat in the lobby of one of the Clayton County Police Stations, there were more than one people here who, like him, were probably looking for a job. Troy felt satisfied in knowing that unlike many of the people here, his life wouldn't end if he didn't get accepted; sure his life would be hell because he'd have to spend some more time with his father, but he still had a degree, so he had that running for him. He wasn't stupid enough to think he was above these folks, though, more than likely he'd be making real good friends with them, sooner or later. So bearing that in mind, he decided against pulling out his phone to continue reading a book he'd been obsessed with, as of late, and decided to watch the news, and listen to the others' reactions to it. Right now there was some attractive reporter woman (All of the men in the room, made many varying comments about said attractiveness), in a live feed from DC, where apparently _something_ was going on, because Air Force One had made an unscheduled landing, and now the Vice President and a couple other important US Figures were being transported all over the country to secure locations. Some of the men in the room - Troy included - wondered if there had been some terrorist attack that they didn't know of, but, they reasoned, if there had, the news would have said so by now, so something else was going on.

_"I_ heard it's aliens." Stated someone, with the thick Georgian accent Troy felt happy he'd avoided obtaining, due in part to his near constant exposure to his brother (Who spoke with a northern accent) during his teenage years.

"Bull _shit_." Said another, "Aliens don't exist dumbass, who told you that?"

"I have my sources." Defended the first.

Troy piped in at this point, "Who, Dan Anthony on _108 _point whatever?" He questioned, repressing a smirk after the guy's face paled, "You know he's insane, yes? They found him a few months ago sealed up in some underground vault, talking about exploding moons and alien invasions." He told the man, "Aliens don't exist, its as simple as that."

"If they don't exist, how do you explain the pyramids?!" Demanded the man, trying to save face.

"Asshole Egyptians forcing their Jew slaves to make tombs for their god-kings, the Pharaohs." Troy stated, "Next question."

"Er… Crop circles!"

"Dumbass farmers trying to get six seconds on the TV to peddle their product and subtly announce that they sell weed." Troy stated, "Next question."

"Er… Uh…" The man's face was turning red, and the others around them were laughing their asses off, "Explain how… We've advanced so much, in the last hundred fifty years, if it weren't for alien influence!" The man smiled, having apparently cornered Troy.

Troy smiled back, "Every society has its golden age. We had ours in the eighteenth through the twentieth centuries, and its likely that we won't get another for a few hundred years. You ask me how we've advanced? I ask you how your cell phone works. You don't know the _how_, or the _why_… You just know that it _does_." He said, silencing the man, who scowled and went back to staring at the reporter's chest.

Troy got some chuckles, and some pats on the back from the men in the room, before they too went back to staring at the news, or the reporter. Troy would have done the same - for lack of anything more productive to do - but his phone began to vibrate, so Troy dug into his pocket and retrieved it, it was his girlfriend, Elizabeth.

Troy answered the phone, "Hey Liz, what's up?" He asked, softly, so he wouldn't 'disturb' the others in the room.

"_Finally!_ Troy, I've been trying to catch you for fifteen minutes now, have you seen the news?!" Demanded Elizabeth, from the other end of the phone.

Troy looked to the TV, it looked like the reporter was looking at something off screen, but other than that, nothing looked odd. "Er… I'm watching the news in the station, right now, what am I supposed to be seeing?" He asked.

"Turn it to channel five, hurry!" Requested Elizabeth.

Troy leaned over to the guy closest to the TV, "Hey man, flip it to Channel five, would you?"

"Why?" The guy asked.

Troy shrugged, "Girlfriend says something's going on, on Channel Five." He responded.

The man took this as a suitable answer, and flipped the channel to what was requested. After the picture opened up, Troy nearly dropped his phone. On the screen was some sort of massive object, slowly lumbering its way through the clouds. It had the obvious appearance of a ship, but it looked as if it had never been touched by a Human hand. It continued to soar, until it reached a dead stop above the White House, and wouldn't move at all.

The man Troy had showed up earlier suddenly looked really smug, as he jabbed a finger in Troy's direction and shouted, at the top of his lungs, _"I fucking told you!"_

* * *

_Entry No. 2 (Cont.):_

_That was how it began. Fox News got the image of the first_

_ever alien ship to enter Earth's atmosphere, and just like every Hollywood movie ever would dictate, it comes to stop right above Washington DC. _

_At this point in time, the only folks who knew about the armada that was currently parking all around Earth's orbit were the nerds at NASA, but at this point, that didn't matter. In the Pentagon's eyes, the frigging space ship just infiltrated American Airspace with little to no warning, and even less permission._

_So, the obvious solution was to deploy the Air Force, get some jets in the air and some helicopters in the front, and figure out if we could talk to 'em._

* * *

Captain Byron Conner, of the United States Air Force, was having an interesting day, to say the least. First, he'd been woken up by his wife of two years, who thought her water had broke, and had nearly got Conner in a helicopter on the way to the house, before she realized that she had literally, just wet herself during the night. Then his Helicopter had been given a surprise inspection, which he thankfully passed, he loved his ship, and wouldn't ever let it fall into disrepair. Finally, he'd been told that aliens were landing on Earth, and he was going to be part of the 'Heli-flotilla' that would be patrolling the mother ship's perimeter, until ET decided to phone Earth.

So now he was in his attack helicopter, which had been fully fueled and armed, hurtling towards the White House, with fourteen others behind him; all of them were talking about what was happening.

"_Seriously man, freakin' aliens!"_ Said a pilot, _"First we make electricity, then we make the A-Bomb, then we land a guy on the moon, then we make ourselves a superpower… And now damn aliens! Why does all the interesting stuff happen in America?"_ He wondered, adopting a tone that cried 'complain', but a chuckle that cried 'I'm joking', _"Why not land somewhere no one would expect… Like… I dunno… England! You don't see any aliens invade England stories, do you?!"_

_"Obviously you haven't watched Doctor Who, my friend."_ Said another pilot, her remark earning a round of chuckles.

_"My witty sarcastic remark still stands. I think I'd rather have aliens land _somewhere else_, than have to deal with 'em on our soil."_ The first pilot mumbled.

Conner chuckled, _"Alright kiddies, play time's over, I can see the White House, and the Star Destroyer just over there, northeast."_ He called out; sure enough, a mile or two to the northeast, an enormous ship could be seen, just hovering over the White House. Even further in the distance, and only visible because Conner had seen the sun glint off its hull, were a couple Air Force jets, probably doing the same thing that they were doing: Wondering what in god's name was going on, and who called ET _back_.

For hours, the Air Force pilots would patrol the area, having to head off and land a few times to refuel, and having to 'show their stuff' to the nosy reporter helicopters that tried to inch past the 'no fly zone', believing - stupidly - that they could fool the American radars by simply rushing past them. As Conner was wondering just why, in fact, the aliens were here, he got a new set of orders over the radio. They'd outfitted an old helicopter, that had been scheduled for decommission, with a projector and a couple kilobytes of image files. He'd been told that they were hoping that, by showing peaceful images of Mankind at his best, the Aliens might be willing to be coaxed out, so they could begin properly communicating with each other.

So Conner stayed in place for a bit, and kept one eye on the radar, and one on the afternoon sky, looking for the 'Hello'-Copter. After a few minutes, it appeared on radar, and then he saw it himself. It was moving a bit slowly, compared to an attack copter's normal speed, but Conner knew that it was to make sure the projection equipment didn't shear off mid-flight.

_"Hey there! You Captain Conner?"_ Asked a pilot over the radio, presumably the one from the 'Hello'-copter.

"Depends if this is the helo we're waiting for, to start talking to ET." Said Conner.

_"That's me! I'm heading around what we think is the front end of this thing, so why don't you meet me there, we'll show ET our fangs and flowers."_ The pilot requested, as he changed course to meet his orders.

"Roger that." Said Conner, as he ambled around and proceeded to do the same.

* * *

"Er… Captain, it appears as if the Humans are taking the intiative…" Said a crewman aboard the Batarian Vessel, _Shalanaza_.

"What?" Demanded Shin Tso'mal, looking at the crewman with an intense gaze.

"Their aerial vessels… 'Helicopters'… Are moving to the front of the ship… I believe they are trying to communicate with us."

"Do they expect us to have windows?!" Demanded the captain, "Bring up the camera feeds and keep your eyes on the scanners… Let's see the Humans' last words." Said Tso'mal, as the galaxy map was replaced with a live vid-feed from the front end of the ship, where two helicopters were positioned, one with its primitive weaponry, and the other with some sort of machine patched onto it.

For a few moments, nothing happened, but after a while, the second helicopter began broadcasting images through a projector, said images were caught on a large white sheet, which was being suspended by the vehicle. The images shown were simple, and had Tso'mal not spent so long working on translators for the Human language (Or, more accurately, forced the Salarian Slave Corps to forge the translators), he would have been forced to guess what the images meant. He saw images of friendship, of compassion and of brotherhood, some symbols he recognized as peace symbols were flashed periodically, before the entire process would repeat.

_The Humans must be making a plea for peace…_ Thought the captain.

"Send a message of our own." Tso'mal ordered.

"How? Captain?"

"We have access to their satellite network, yes? So send a message." He pulled up his Omni-tool, and pulled up the video he'd had several slaves scouring over for weeks to make, and sent it through to the Human satellite network.

* * *

_Entry No. 2 (Cont):_

_The message they sent was a simple, harmless video, though most would call it the 'Subjugation Call' after the war would begin, and Earth would begin to be divided into 'Free Earth' and 'Occupied Earth'. It showed New York City's skyline, from several different videos and several different angles. They showed the United Nations Headquarters, and showed some video of Obama shaking hands with some ambassador, but instead of it being… I dunno, Yoda, or whoever the hell was in the video originally, it showed that ugly bastard, lazily edited in to take the original ambassador's position. The world got the message, loud and clear: The Aliens wanted to meet, and where else but New York?_

_And just as people were beginning to ask why the ship had settled above the White House, instead of going directly to New York, the ship began to angle itself to the north, and slowly began its trek across the east coast._

_Fun fact: Some news agency, with access to a *lot* of fuel, a dozen or so helicopters, and portable internet, live streamed the entire journey on Youtube. Last I heard (Or last it __**ever**__ mattered) the stream and subsequent videos all got a __**low**__ average of six and a half million views. The stream itself maxed out at fifty six billion, before I lost my phone and couldn't access the internet anymore._

* * *

"Well… _that_ happened!" Said Jack Whyte, after the television flickered back to some very startled news anchors, who had just been informed that _aliens_ had hacked into their broadcast and had overwritten them for a few minutes.

"Oh boy…" Said Christopher McGraw, as he sat back in his chair. It felt like the entire fort was huddled around this one TV, Chris had been lucky he'd been sitting down before the aliens had parked over the White House. "What do you think the Government's going to do?" He asked no one in particular.

"Stack the _fuck_ up!" Said a Ranger, "They'll be pulling out all the stops for this one. New York'll be put under martial law for a few days, National Guard'll be patrolling the streets… Fuckin' SEALs and Delta Force will take over for Secret Service, or at least supplement them… We've shown ET we're ready to accept peace… Now we're going to show him out fangs." The Ranger explained.

"No _way_, these are _aliens_ man!" Said another, "For all we know, showing up with a frigging Cell Phone will be tantamount to declaring war! If Obama showed up with a damn battalion of Special Forces, what message would that send? Because I think the image of a god damn _gun_ is pretty universal…"

"And so should be, the feeling of sudden dread when you see a damn _American_ holding said gun." Said Jack, "Seriously, I'm with the light-weight on this one, -" He cracked a quick smile before he continued, "- We're going to be supplementing the hell out of New York. National Guard, Special Forces, Marines, Air Force… Hell, I'm pretty damn sure _SWAT_ will be getting in on this. If they can hold a gun and look tough in uniform, they'll be called in." He explained.

"Well… Now we know what happened to the moon." Said Chris, a few people heard him well enough to request an explanation, and his continued speech quieted the room, "Don't you remember? Back in March, or April, the nerds at NASA told us that a meteor hit one of… Pluto I think's moons, and broke it apart. Everyone got scared for a while, wondering how a meteor went under NASA's radar." He nodded to the TV, "Now we know why it was such a bad cover story."

"Doesn't this disprove… like… Every religion out there?… Save for maybe Budhism and Atheism?" Asked some poor soul, who brought up the 'religion' discussion in Georgia.

_Oh you've done fucked up._ Thought Chris, as voices almost immediately began to rise to refute and argue the Ranger who'd made the mistake of asking.

* * *

Entry No. 2 (Final):

6/13/13 would be forever known as the day the world watched TV.

* * *

Shin Tso'Mal stood tall, as his Cruiser's Shuttle-Bay doors began to open in front of him. The ship's crew had told him that, in the short run, hovering just above the ground like this, may cost the ship more energy, but when they would flee to the sky - which _would_ have to happen, if they wanted air superiority - it wouldn't take as much energy as taking off from the ground. Tso'Mal grimaced as the 'Earth's oddly-clean - in Batarian standards - air permeated his ship, and the ugly skyline of their 'New York' greeted his eyes. The 'United Nations Headquarters' would be the first building to fall, but Tso'Mal would make sure that everyone _knew_ it had fallen, before it was destroyed. Behind him, in addition to three Batarian SpecFors, was two Krogan Battle masters - one of whom, was biotic -, and five Vorcha BattleVectors. This would make for quite the show, when the Humans would realize that they were being greeted not only by one, but by several species at once. Tso'Mal could only dream of the looks on the faces of the Humans, when the horrifying realization would occur, when they would think that the _entire_ Galaxy was against them.

The Shuttle-Bay door finished opening, and outside Tso'Mal saw dozens of Humans. There was some sort of fence, with crowds of Humans on each side, holding odd objects and pointing them at his magnificent ship. In front of those fences stood armed Humans, with letters that spelled 'SWAT' on the back of their odd, fabric-looking armor. A few meters from the ship's bay-doors, stood a Human in a formal suit, and ten tough looking individuals, some also wearing suits, some wearing what looked like uniforms for the Earth's armed forces. Tso'Mal silently laughed at the Humans' stupidity, they chose to rely upon flimsy clothing and only very slightly armored vests, to protect themselves, instead of body armor? They would get a horrible 'wake up call', very soon.

Tso'Mal walked down the ramp, immediately the legions of Humans holding odd machines began pressing buttons, and hordes of clicks and flashes began occurring as they utilized the machines to take pictures of him and his guards. Tso'Mal didn't hide the scowl that formed upon his face, he hated all kinds of press, especially those who didn't know their place.

When he exited the ship, one of his Batarian guards gave the order to close the ramp. He stood several meters from the dark skinned, smiling Human. For several moments, there was relative silence, as neither party dared to act in a way that could threaten the other. Tso'Mal ended up making the first move, he took a step forward and extended his hand, in what he remembered as a greeting the Humans on this area of the world used. The Human smiled a bit more broadly, and accepted the hand. The Human's hands were soft, and fleshy, not unlike Asari hands, but nothing like the tought, thick skin of a Batarian. He also noted that the man's handshake was firm, but not crushing. This told Tso'Mal that the man had a sense of authority, but nothing like Tso'Mal's.

After the two shook hands a few times, Tso'Mal gave his best faux-smile, and said, "Greetings, Human… From the Batarian Hegemony." in 'English', he said so with a nod, and after taking a single step back, the ship's bay door began opening again, and his personal forces drew their weapons. Tso'Mal would give the Human soldiers some credit, they worked _fast._ Immediately after the first Vorcha had went for his gun, a Human soldier - one of the ones in the suits - quickly grabbed the dark skinned Human's shoulder and yanked him back, behind the 'wall' of armed Humans, whom all raised their weapons and pointed them at the Batarian, who stood impassively, with an obvious air of power, and authority.

"I speak to you, specifically… Because you lead your world's strongest nation." Tso'Mal said, loudly, his deep voice silenced the crowds, more so than his guards drawing their weapons, "We have come to subjugate you. _All_ of you." He left no question as to what he meant, "We are prepared to fight for what will be ours. We've nothing to lose to you." He said, "But you've everything to lose… If you refuse to lay down your arms… Quietly… And submit to us." He finished, bringing his arms behind his back, surreptitiously activating his Omni-tool and broadcasting a message to the fleet, to begin deploying fighters and drop-ships.

"We've done… Nothing… To you and your kind." Said the dark skinned Human, from behind his guards.

Tso'Mal nodded, "That changes not a thing." He stated, with a sneer, "Now you choose."

The Human reporters almost simultaneously shifted their views to the Human, who stood there with wide eyes. Tso'Mal smiled wider, the Human's indecision only bought more time for his forces to ready themselves, and for his ships to charge their weapons. Tso'Mal saw the Human sigh deeply, and allowed himself a moment to consider the fact that the Human may actually surrender. The Human looked to his left, and then his right, into the cameras of the Humans beside him, he nodded once, before he straightened himself and looked at the Batarian.

"I apologize, not only do I not know your name… But I do not know _why_ we shall go to war." He said, before he nodded again.

Tso'Mal realized what was about to happen, just as the reporters did. The Human sighed one last time, before he tapped the shoulder of one of his guards, "Kill them." He stated, bluntly.

Immediately after the words left his lips, one of the suited Humans and two of the SWAT Humans grabbed him and began rapidly ushering him out of harm's way. Tso'Mal smiled as the Biotic Battle Master brought up a barrier that caught all of the rapidly retreating Human Soldier's bullets. At this moment, the ship's bay-door opened, to reveal the entire ship's supply of Batarian soldiers, Vorcha, and Krogan mercenaries, and the thousands more Slave Soldiers; all of them opened fire, indiscriminately, the moment the Krogan dropped his barrier. Tso'Mal relished in the sounds of the dying Humans, as he went back to his ship, and his forces advanced. In the distance, he could hear the Human jets' engines whine as they made to advance upon the ship and launch their missiles. He laughed, as when they did, they slammed into the ship's broadside Kinetic Barriers, and did little damage to him or the ship. The Human jets pulled up and tried to turn around for another shot, but they both were shot down, as the thousands of drop ships and fighters began breaking the cloud-barrier and descending to the city.

"Welcome to your first _true_ war… Humans." Said Tso'Mal, before the ship's bay-doors closed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2:

June 14th, 2013

* * *

_Entry No. 3:_

_After that, everything happened too fast._

_One moment we were all sitting there, dumbfounded at what we were seeing._

_The next, the alarm was going off, and everyone was being ordered to get geared up._

_The moment after that, the sky is darkened by the Human and Alien aerial vessels, as the former rush to set up defensive positions, and the latter rush to destroy the former._

_My squad was among the 'lucky' ones, whereas the grunts in the 'regular' army were digging in, and fighting for their lives in Atlanta, we were ordered to do something simple: Set up a __**big**__ bomb, right in the middle of the alien ship that had situated itself above the city, and was taking pot shots at the jets that passed too close to it._

_Downside?_

_We had to go in hard, and fast, and we didn't know what to expect, inside the ship._

_Command had pretty much told us, this could be a one-way trip._

_We didn't care, though, alien invasion 101: Burn the mother ship, then kill the ground-forces. If we could take control of the air __**back**__ from the Invaders, we could control the ground, and then we'd turn the war in our favor._

* * *

Christopher McGraw was a career military man. He'd joined the army at eighteen, and he'd gotten into the Rangers in his mid-twenties, and hadn't looked back, or regretted a moment of it. He'd only ever been _really_ nervous a few times during his career, the first time, being his very first deployment into Afghanistan, in a hot environment, where he all but knew he was going to be shot at, and he was going to be shooting people; the next time was his first real aerial insertion, after he'd joined the Rangers. But after that, he'd never really gotten the butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling, like he had now.

He was still trying to wrap his head around it, even now, as the helicopter was moving in fast, and high, towards Atlanta. _Aliens_, they were _invading!_ He didn't think it possible, at first. But then it had happened, and it had happened so _fast!_ One moment, Obama was there, talking to the Aliens and shaking hands, the next, the Aliens were shooting everything in sight. Last Chris had even _heard_, before he and his squad had been ushered into their helicopters, where Obama was being transferred to some Navy ship, a Carrier of some sort, until he could be transported to a 'secure facility' somewhere else in mainland US.

Chris shook his head, it had all just taken five minutes, and then every news center in the world was reporting ships and shuttles landing in all the major cities. From what Chris understood, America was, in fact, getting the worst of it. Go figure.

Chris shook his head again, he knew that if he thought of _everything_, it would overwhelm him with anxiety and stress. Right now, he had to focus on one thing: The objective, and that objective, was to destroy the ship that had situated itself above Atlanta. Its beam-based point-defense cannons were currently shooting everything they could see from the ship's stationary, hovering position, above the city, it wasn't discriminating, either. Air-Force jets, civilian airliners, news helicopters, anything that _looked_ threatening, was being shot, Chris had even heard that the ship was even shooting at the US Naval Vessels off shore! So, the government had decided that the alien ship was the reason the Air Force wasn't dominating, and ruling Atlanta air-space, and therefore, it had to go.

The plan was simple, Dagger Squad, and its twenty five, five-Ranger teams, would each carry several pounds of C-4, and they'd head for the areas of the ship, unanimously chosen to be the engineering, and CIC centers, the back and front of the ship, respectively. Chris' squad was among the two 'lucky' ones to be told to go to the engineering center.

Chris looked up, and saw his squad-mates. Jack Whyte seemed to be in the same state as Chris, he had his rifle laid across his lap, and his gloved hands clasped together tightly, probably in prayer. His helmet was nestled snugly on his head, with the Night Vision Goggles clasped to its 'forehead', ready to be deployed, if the ship happened to be much darker than the outside suggested. Joe Sanders wasn't showing any signs of the hangover that had been torturing him just a few hours earlier, he was clenching the bridge of his nose, either trying to make sure that he wasn't in some hungover nightmare, or trying to make sure what he was living in was _real_, Chris wasn't sure. Jeffrey 'Jeff' Allen was fiddling with his helmet, it was just as snug as Chris', and everyone else's, but the nervous feelings were probably ordering the Ranger to make _sure_ it was snugly fit. Thomas 'Tom' Fuller, the squad's leader, had his eyes clenched tight in thought, Chris assumed that he was trying to figure out just _how_ he and his men would accomplish their goal, and get out alive.

Among everything Chris noticed, the details on his and his friends' uniforms, the number and weight of the magazines on the vest, on his chest, Chris noticed that it was _quiet_. If Chris didn't know any better, he'd say that the relative silence was _helping_ the nervous mood.

_I've got to change this…_ Thought Chris, so he looked at Jack.

"So, Jack…" He began, thinking up what to say on the fly, "How's your mammy doin'?" He asked, mimicking the soldier's accent.

Jack looked at Chris sideways, a curious glint in his eye, "Fine…" He said, "Why?" He asked, clearly confused, but happy to have a conversation to take his mind off of the aliens.

"'Cause I heard your mom's so ugly, that the marines thought she was an alien, nearly shot her during the evacuation." Said Chris, with an evil grin plastered on his face.

Jack chuckled, Chris could tell it was a little forced, but he knew that it _was_ genuine, "Ah hell, McGraw, I heard it was a picture of _your_ momma that started this entire damn thing!" He responded, "Scared ET and his buddies _shitless."_

"Oh come on, Jack, that all you got? My momma's _dead_, all they got was a picture of a skeleton." Chuckled Chris.

"Ain't that what _they're_ going to be, in a few hours?" Asked Sanders.

"Hooah!" Said Allen.

"Ain't that the truth?" Said Jack, loudly.

"ET decided to fuck with the _wrong_ species, on the _wrong _planet, in the _wroong _fuckin'nation boys!" Fuller declared, finally joining the conversation, as the helicopter slowly shuddered to a halt.

The red light was quickly flicked, and the Rangers went through the motions. After just a few moments of rest, the light went green, and the Rangers dived out the back end of the helicopter, joined by twenty other Rangers, all also leaping through the sky, diving towards the alien ship.

* * *

Entry No. 3 (Cont.):

_When we soared through the clouds, and in the moments just before we deployed our parachutes, I'd been filled with the greatest sadness I'd ever felt in my entire life._

_The sky was filled with aircraft, both Human and alien. Black puffs of smoke filled the sky, as Human shots tried to take down the Alien craft, and the alien ship tried to shoot down the Human Craft, with its hull-mounted laser guns._

_The sky was also filled with flaming wreckages of Human and Alien Aircraft. The worst part? Or… Hell, as bad as it sounds, it isn't the worst part… But still, there were more Human Aircraft, falling to the ground, than there were Alien Craft._

_Worse still, was what was _beneath _the aerial battle. _

_Even from so high up, I could see the death and destruction on the ground. The Police were the prime evacuators, of any remaining civilians, and the Firemen, desperately failing as they were, were simply trying to stop fires and treat wounded, as they too evacuated civilians._

_The United States Army, and the National Guard were - at the time - the only one fighting the war, the Marines hadn't yet gotten there to reinforce us. Even though, technically speaking, we had an immense numerical advantage over the aliens, they were winning, almost solely, because of the enormous ship hovering above them, and because of the several other species that were taking part in the war. _

_The big frog-things were the main threat to our guys, their hides were so thick that it took dozens of bullets just to penetrate their thick skull, to get at their brains and kill them. They were tough, too, they charged right at our defensive lines and routed us from cover, allowing the four-eyes (Who fought most like us) to shoot them down, or for the bug-eyes (Who, almost literally, fought like bugs) to claw them apart. _

_The four-eyed aliens were the ones that fought most like us, but their heat-based weapons, that never ran out of ammo, were much more brutal firearms than we'd ever made. They were constantly capturing and enslaving anyone they could, but if you raised a weapon against them, they put you down, and their weapons wouldn't leave anything left to bury._

_The Bug-Eyed aliens were the unique ones. Whereas the frogs were good anti-personnel, personnel, and the Four-Eyes were good all around, the Bug-Eyes were good wherever they were needed. Give them an hour, and they'd adapt and evolve, to whatever environment they were in. Give them a minute, and they'd heal, and survive from otherwise deadly wounds._

_And those were only the ones who participated in the beach-head invasions, the ones the Aliens used to establish what would be known as 'Occupied Earth', and begin the enslaving. _

_Once they'd done that, they'd sent in legions of other species, but I'll get into _them_ later._

_All three of their species, versus one Man, overwhelmed us, in the end._

_As I look back, writing this, I can only ever hope that my Brother didn't have to face the horrors of inter-species war, that his fellow Man, and I, did._

* * *

Troy Williams was in his truck. Its bed was loaded with supplies, everything ranging from gasoline and canned food, to sleeping mats and bedrolls. His plan was simple, and though his truck might not have agreed to it, as it was thrown about and jostled, in the off-road terrain that was leading him to the North Georgia Mountains, its make and model served the hastily-thrown-together plan faithfully.

Back at the police department, after the shock of what he'd just witnessed had worn off, he'd assumed a leadership position with the several men who'd come to be interviewed, like him, for the open jobs. Ten of them, in total, had been panicking when the first shots were fired.

"We have to get out of here!" One had shouted.

"To the country side!" Another said.

With that, everyone poured to the door of the suddenly empty station, but Troy had frozen them all with a single phrase.

_"No! Wait!"_ He'd shouted; they all looked at him as if he'd tried to murder them. "Are you people stupid? You go flee to your trucks, to your country sides, what'll happen?" He'd demanded, "You'll be sitting ducks on the highways, blocking the way for the Army, the Marines, and the National Guard to get where they need to go, and waiting for the aliens to come and bomb you to smithereens!"

"Well what do _you_ think we should do!?" Demanded the same man whom had been embarrassed by Troy, earlier.

"We go to the mountains." Troy stated, simply, drawing groans from the group, "No, _listen!"_ He said, "My uncle has property up in the mountains, we go there, we bunker down, we _wait."_ He stated.

"What, you think we're going to _ride out_ the apocalypse?!" Demanded the man.

"No, I think we're going to ride out the first war!" Troy stated, drawing confused looks from the men. "Look, any way you think about it, we can't win this! Organized warfare, against an _alien_ threat? Hollywood be damned, we can't do it!" He said, "No doubt, they're coming to either exterminate, or conquer… And the alien on the TV said, that they're doing the latter… Which means that, once the first wars end, we'll have a worldwide guerilla movement on our hands." He stated.

"You think you're going to make us join the fuckin' army?!" The man demanded, "I chose the Police because I wanted to _avoid_ the fuckin' army!" He declared.

"_No_ dumbass! Think for a second!" Troy shouted, "When everything's gone to shit, and when organized _Human_ government is dead, first will come the looting, of _everything_ and _anything._ Then will come the defeated Human society, under alien rule. _Everything_ will be divided into the 'haves', and the 'have-nots'… We go into the mountains, with a _shit_ load of supplies and weapons, _we'll_ be the 'Haves'… _We'll_ have enough to survive. Then, when the time comes to take sides, survivor or fighter, then you make your decision, and go on your way!"

The men had considered Troy's words, and in just a few minutes, they were off, in their legion of four pick-ups, two SUV's, one sports car, and a Prius. Several of the men had lived close to the station, so they'd been the ones to loot and empty their houses of supplies. The ones that lived too far, instead, went to the closest grocery stores, which had been abandoned when the Aliens had started shooting. Troy had felt worse than bad, when he'd started taking everything he could from a Wallmart, not only was he looting, but by virtue of technicality, he was _stealing!_ He'd vowed to deal with those feelings later, after he'd gone to the Hunting sections, and smiled when he saw the guns and ammunition stocked there. In less than an hour, he'd weighed down his truck's bed with canned supplies and other survivor materials, and the passenger's seat with weapons and ammunition, a few shotguns and some shells, some .22 rifles, some handguns, and a few bows and some quivers. He would have tried looking 'in the back' for more weapons and ammunition, but he didn't have time, and, he reasoned, if push came to shove, he knew the locations of several Army-Navy stores they could go to.

Troy smiled, as he thought of a comment one man had made when they'd met up in a small clearing, to get their bearings.

"You know, something about this just _SCREAMS _'Red Dawn'." The guy had said, "Next thing you know, _we're_ going to be making that 'Guerilla Army' you talked about."

Troy had smiled at the comment, "You mean you _watched_ the remade pee-oh-ess?" He'd asked the man.

"Hell no, I watched the original with Pop… Our favorite movie." He'd told Troy.

Troy had simply smiled, nodded, and said "Good man."

Troy shook his head, clearing the memory away, and stole a quick glance at his rear-view, still ten cars, all following him on the bumpy dirt-road. Troy honked the horn twice, and then flashed the 'right-turn' signal, he got a few headlight flashes in response, as the others did what he did.

* * *

_"Deploying Chute!"_ Shouted Corporal Christopher McGraw, before he pulled the rip-cord, and his almost-painfully built momentum was killed by the rapidly deploying parachute.

Around him, in the air, his squad and teammates shouted the same thing, and quickly, the aerial graveyard and battlefield above Georgia, was joined by twenty five parachutes, each carrying one armed, angry, and determined United States Army Ranger. Below the Rangers, just a few dozen meters, give or take, was the enormous alien ship. It was sleek, and blocky in appearance, but it had the appearance as if it was designed to be aerodynamic, rather than for traveling through space. It didn't _at all_ look unlike a Human naval ship, now that Chris thought about it, the engines were at the very back, and the lengthy forward end extended outwards several hundred meters, the 'body' of the ship seemed to be wrapped around some sort of spinal cannon, and it had a black and red paint job; but Chris couldn't even tell where the ship's CIC could be. Chris had been ever so slightly amused though, at the _speed_ it took, for command to give them the order to take out the ship. It didn't _surprise_ Chris, at all, but it amused him at how quickly the orders came through.

_"Whoa, three O' Clock!"_ Shouted Sanders, through the radio.

Chris looked up, and to his right, he saw a veritable _fleet_ of Jets hurtling towards the battleground above the city, and trailing behind the jets were helicopters. Hundreds of helicopters, no doubt carrying hundreds of United States Marines.

_"Cavalry's here, gentlemen!"_ Whyte shouted, with a triumphant laugh.

"Landing!" Chris called, just as his feet slammed onto the surface of the ship.

Chris wasted no time, stripping the parachute from his body, and doing a quick, cursory inspection of his gear. He had his M4, and a full stash of magazines for it. He had his M9 pistol, and several magazines for it. He had four fragmentation grenades, four flash-bangs, and even one incendiary, given to him by his sergeant, who'd given one to everyone in the squad, his reasoning being that they didn't know what they'd find, and having a bit of everything, would be better than having a lot of nothing.

After concluding that he had everything, Chris - acting upon instinct - chambered a round in his rifle, and moved to Sergeant Fuller's landing point. When he and his squad formed up, Fuller gave them a quick refresher on their goals.

"Alright squad, here's the situation:…" Fuller said, as he too went over his gear, "The Air-Force is having a hell of a time wrestling air-superiority from ET and his buddies. This ship is proving to be the biggest reason we can't keep wings in the air, we would've tried to bomb it down already, but its got some kind of shielding that protects it from our missiles." He explained.

"I don't feel no shield…" Muttered Jack, as he shifted his weight from leg to leg, as if that would trigger the shield, or prove that it wasn't there.

"That's what I was about to say. It seems that the ship's shields are designed to recognize things moving at certain speeds, so we're talking missiles, bullets, etcetera. Boots? Not so much. So they called us in, we're to infiltrate the ship and blow it out of the sky. Hooah?"

_"Hooah!"_ Shouted the squad, in response, before they all moved forward.

"Sergeant, eleven O' Clock, fifty meters, looks like some kind of manhole cover." Said Private Allen.

"Copy that…" Said Fuller, _"Dagger Squad, Dagger 2-1 Actual, be advised: We've found an entrance into the ship, what appears to be a manhole cover, sticking out from its roof. We're heading in."_ He broadcasted to the entire team, the other sergeants quickly radioed in with acknowledgements, and in just a few short minutes, the United States Army Rangers were surging downwards, into the alien ship.

_Wait..._ Thought McGraw, "Did that trip any alarms?" He whispered.

"Do you _hear_ any?!" Demanded Whyte.

"Alright squad, stay quiet, I don't think they expected us to be here." Said Fuller, before he consulted a compass, "Alright, the objective is to the east, so let's get moving." He said, before he turned to his left, and moved quickly and quietly, his squad all followed him, staying quiet, and scanning their sectors.

Christopher took in all of his admittedly cramped surroundings. The walls weren't anything like he'd seen in the sci-fi movies, where there were wires and all sorts of bits and bobs jutting out from the walls. No, here, it was just a metal wall, the wires were probably neatly arranged _behind_ them, but that was another point entirely. The floor looked like it was made of metal grates, but underneath Chris only saw darkness. He thought they reminded him much of the floor of the Millenium Falcon, in Star Wars, and wondered if they were used for smuggling.

_"Hold!"_ Said Fuller, quickly shoving a closed fist in the air, the entire squad froze, right at a corner, _"Hold me, I'm leaning in."_ He whispered.

Whyte nodded, and grabbed a fistful of Fuller's tac-vest. Fuller leaned around the corner, and almost immediately tapped his foot on Whyte's, Whyte quickly jerked Fuller back around the corner. Fuller said nothing, but the handsigns he made quickly told them _why_, the room around the corner had at least five hostile contacts, all armed.

_"Any way around?" _Allen whispered.

Fuller nodded, but Chris detected a hint of solemnity in it, _"Only way is across the way, 12."_ He said, pointing in front of him. On the other end of the small clearing between walls, was another hallway, leading into a curved corridor. _"We'll have to be fast…"_ He noted, _"But they still might see us. Any suggestions?"_

_"I was given a few smokes."_ Sanders whispered, _"We could stick it in the flooring, make 'em think it's a fire. Then we just follow the smoke down into the bowels of the ship."_ He suggested.

Fuller thought a moment, then took out a lighter, he struck the light, wherever the air was flowing from, it was flowing _towards_ the corridor they were trying to get to, as evidenced by the direction the flame was leaning. Fuller cut the light, then looked to Sanders, before he nodded, _"Do it."_

Sanders nodded, and unclipped his smoke grenade. He leaned right next to the wall, and pulled the pin, before he slipped it in the gap between the wall and the grates. A few moments passed, before there was a slight 'pop', and smoke quickly began funneling from the grenade. The smoke went up, and then to the East, _right_ where the Rangers wanted. They waited a moment, and just before they heard raised voices, they dashed through, under the cover of the smoke.

_"Ishnal?! Sdook-dook nod vir?!"_ Demanded an abnormally deep, obviously alien voice, in its native, guttural tongue.

Just as Chris made his way into the next corridor, he saw several of the aliens _barrel_ past him, coughing from the smoke. The not-so-bright Aliens completely failed to see the Rangers, Chris seriously wondered how the aliens expected to conquer the Humans, if they couldn't even see -

_"Shneep PYJACKS!"_ He heard, and then Allen behind him quickly shouted.

_"CONTACT!" _He shouted, just as two guns started roaring.

The five Rangers quickly whipped around, and crouched, they saw an enormous creature, it looked like some kind of armored _toad_, and it had a _big_ gun in its hands, which was pointed at Allen.

_"Open Fire!"_ Fuller shouted, just as they all began emptying their magazines into the monster. It was quickly peppered with bullets and shells from Whyte's shotgun, but it was only after Chris got lucky with a shot between the eyes, did the beast finally go down.

_"Move!"_ Shouted Fuller, and just as the Rangers started barreling through the ship, and the alarms started going off, he added, _"Who's up?!"_

"I'm up!" Whyte.

"I'm up!" McGraw.

"I'm fucked up, but I'm up!" Shouted Allen, his shoulder bleeding from the slug it took, "God damn thing's got a _big_ gun!"

"Allen, you going to be okay?"

"Sir yes sir, bone stopped the bullet, shallow wound, I'm fine." He said, as they rounded a corner, and were met by the five smaller aliens they'd met a while ago.

The aliens reacted first, and opened fire, but the Humans reacted efficiently, and almost as one, got down to firing positions, and fired a quick volley of bullets, which soared down the hallway, and slammed into the aliens, killing most and severely injuring the rest.

_"Dagger squad, we've been compromised!"_ Shouted Fuller, as the squad got back to their feet, and once again sprinted down the ship, McGraw found himself sincerely hoping they'd find the engineering, or even an _engine_ bay, real soon, _"Go loud! We need to finish the objective, before they try and do something to the ship!"_ He ordered.

"What the hell do you think they can do to us _inside _the ship!?" Whyte demanded.

_"Shoot us,_ private!" Answered Chris.

The Rangers continued moving through the ship. Twice, during their journey to the ship's stern, were they delayed by its crew, but Allen's shoulder wound was the worst the squad would suffer, aside from bumps, bruises, and a few grazes. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they ended up in some large clearing in the ship, and a few meters away from them, lay an enormous blue-white sphere, that regularly pulsed with energy.

_"Contact, left side!"_ Shouted Chris.

"Is that our target?!" Demanded Sanders, as they took cover and fired upon the aliens.

"Looks like it!" Said Fuller, as he leaned into cover to slap a fresh magazine into his Scar-H assault rifle, "Look, my 4! More Rangers, sixty meters!" He pointed out, and true to his word, on the other end of the deck, almost obscured by the orb, were several more men in uniform, too fighting for their lives.

"Looks like they're pinned down!"

"They're fighting those frog things!" Shouted Chris, after he noticed one charge headfirst towards the Rangers, Chris barely avoided a bullet as it whizzed past his ear, "We need to get over there!"

"Sanders, McGraw, we'll provide covering fire! You move on my mark, Hooah?"

_"Hooah!"_

"Three…" Said Fuller, and like almost every other time, in every other mission, when he began the count down, everything for McGraw, seemed to slow down.

He knew that the next available piece of cover, was the small metal sheets, under the railings on the circular walkway next to the blue sphere, which had to be ten meters away, at least.

_"Two…"_

There were at least five or six aliens firing on the five Rangers, but they seemed to be solely made up of the four-eyed aliens, so Chris knew he didn't have to worry about the suicidal Frogs, until he and Sanders got to the Rangers in danger.

_"ONE! MOVE!"_ Shouted Fuller, as he, Whyte, and Allen all leaned out of cover to suppress the enemy with overwhelming firepower. The aliens, Chris noted that their weapons were venting some _very_ hot air, if the heat ripples were any indication, quickly fled into cover. Chris and Sanders got to their feet and barreled over to the blue orb. If Chris _had_ any, he would have dropped the C4 right then and there, and armed it remotely, but it was Whyte with the bombs, not he. He shook the notion of telling Whyte to set them up, they needed to secure a perimeter and an exit first, not to mention making sure that there was only _one_ way into the engine bay, because alien reinforcements _had_ to be coming.

Chris and Sanders, immediately upon entering the line of sight of the frog aliens assaulting the Rangers, opened fire. One of the aliens summoned up a dark violet shield, which either caught or deflected outright, their bullets.

"Corporal Chris McGraw, and Joe Sanders!" Chris quickly introduced.

"Corporal Dean Wells!" Said a Human, "Our Sergeant is alive, but hurt! He passed out thirty seconds ago!" He informed.

_"Whyte, we've got wounded!"_ Chris shouted.

_"Can't afford the time!"_ Whyte responded, over the sounds of gunfire. Chris cursed, and returned to firing at the steadily advancing Frogs.

"Chris!" Shouted Sanders, "Toss your incendiary!" He ordered.

"We're right next to… That thing!" Chris gestured to the orb, which gave Chris the feeling would explode _violently_ if something hit it hard enough.

"Then don't choke up! Come on, highschool baseball MVP! Strut your stuff!"

"Roger, tossing incendiary!" Said Chris, unclipping the fire grenade from his belt; after he pulled the pin, he threw it hard, right at the Frog that was glowing purple. The grenade was caught in mid-air by his purple barrier, and for a moment, Chris thought it was a dud. But his thoughts were silenced when the grenade exploded, and the flames shot out in all directions, shattering the alien's barrier, and incinerating him and two of his friends.

"Return fire!" Chris ordered, as he, Sanders, and the wounded Rangers all popped out of cover and began laying immense amounts of fire upon the Frogs. One died quickly enough, after being peppered with far too many rounds, but the other two seemed only to be enraged, at _what_, Chris couldn't tell, but he surely could tell at _whom,_ because they uttered forth a loud battle cry, and charged forth, roaring as they did so.

"Retreat!" Chris ordered, after the two slammed through some metal pipes, that were hanging from the ceiling, like they were nothing.

The Rangers didn't need to be asked twice, the wounded were picked up and the healthy fired at the Frogs as they rushed towards them. Unfortunately, Chris was a moment too late in getting up, and as a result was picked up by his arms and slammed into a wall behind him. He felt blood surge up from his stomach, but fought the urge to vomit or spit it out.

**_"WILL, KILL, YOU!"_** The frog shouted, in undeniable English. Chris responded by ripping out his knife - his rifle having been tossed away when he got tackled - and slamming it, repeatedly, into the Frog's armored skull. Chris got exactly three puncture wounds, but the rest were either scrapes or not strong enough to penetrate the armored skull.

The Frog roared louder - if that was possible - and moved to head butt Chris. Chris thought fast, and realized that he needed a _lot_ of force, _very_ soon if he wanted to kill this thing. The first thing to come to mind, was the first thing Chris acted upon, he reached towards his belt and ripped a grenade from it, as the Frog's head completed its arc backwards, the pin went to Chris' teeth and was ripped free, and just as the Frog went to slam its head into Chris' chest, Chris slammed his fist _into_ the Frog's mouth. He shoved as deeply as he could, and when he could go no further, he dropped the grenade, leaving it lodged within the alien. Chris ripped his arm out, - he felt his skin tear as the alien's teeth dragged along the arm, he could feel the blood begin to pool around his suddenly tattered shirt-arm; Chris summoned everything he had in both his legs, and kicked the alien from him, freeing him from the alien's grip.

The alien knew _something_ was wrong within him, and tried clawing at its chest in a vain attempt at getting at the foreign object, but the grenade detonated before he could do anything, and a shower of blood and gore quickly coated the immediate area, Chris included. Chris attempted to fling some of the blood and gore from his hands and uniform, but the other Alien had appeared over his sitting form, gun in hand. He pointed it at Chris, but someone tapped on his shoulder.

Very confused, and a little startled, the Frog turned around, and was met with Jack Whyte's shotgun.

"Yeah, did you order the Pellet Sandwich?" Asked Whyte, before he pulled the trigger, sending the shotgun slug through the Frog's skull, killing it an instant later, "Sorry, all I had was Slug Salads." He quipped, before he moved to Chris.

"Jesus, Corporal, you look like you got pissed on by Bigfoot." He commented, as he helped haul the sore Chris to his feet.

"I didn't even _get_ that…" Chris muttered, as he took in a few deep breaths, and distanced himself from the pain in his chest, he was sure he had a few fractures, but he couldn't think of that now.

"Here -" Whyte handed Chris some bandages, "- Wrap that arm up." He advised, indicating the cloth, as it was slowly becoming more red, than tan and green.

"Thanks." Said Chris, accepting the bandages.

He rolled up his sleeve and looked at his injuries. He'd certainly sustained some, there were several tears and cuts on his skin, most of which, were bleeding. Chris wrapped up as many as he could, while using as little of the bandages and medical tape as he could, he was sure that they would soon enough become more valuable than gold. When his arm was effectively wrapped up, he rolled down his sleeve and replaced his glove; Chris accepted his rifle from Sanders, and moved to the orb with him and Whyte, who quickly got to work setting up the explosives with the other squad.

_"Engineering assault squad, sit-rep."_ Said the deep voice of the man at Command.

_"Command, Dagger 2-1 actual. We're setting up C4 with dagger 2-3, who has suffered casualties. What's the status of Dagger 2-2, 2-4, and 2-5?"_ Fuller inquired.

_"Dagger 2-2 has suffered casualties, but their E-Tech made it. 2-4 and 2-5 have successfully set up explosives and are waiting on your go."_

_"Confirmed, Command. Tell them to begin extraction, we're heading out just now."_ Fuller said, after Sanders gave him the thumbs up that the C4 was ready.

_"Dagger 2-1, be advised: The situation on the ground has only deteriorated since you've arrived. Following successful extraction, your squad is to move to the Capitol Building and assist in the counter-strike."_

_"Command, clarify: Counter strike? What's the situation on the ground?" _Fuller demanded, as the squad began retracing their steps, and moving to the point of the ship they'd used to enter.

_"Dagger 2-1, situation is as follows…"_ Said the voice of Command, before a pause, _"Invading forces have been using a combination of air and orbital supremacy to eliminate our ground forces. Air-force reinforcement have tried and failed to contain and suppress the enemy air, and have begun a full retreat, until such time as they can mount a successful counter attack."_ He explained.

_Meaning blow up the damn ship._ Thought Chris, as he continued to move and listen.

_"Understood, Command, Dagger 2-1 Actual, out."_ Said Fuller, "Squad, we've got to _move!_ Double-time!" He shouted.

* * *

Entry No. 3 (Cont.):

_The last time that the United States was attacked, by any 'Official' military power, that is, was back in the forties, during World War 2. So, to say that we weren't truly prepared, would be an understatement. _

_You've got to remember, this isn't the Middle East, or any of those places in Europe, that see near-constant eras of war, this is the United States, we haven't been invaded in over a half century, and behind closed doors, that's something we_ pride_ ourselves on. _

_However, that would turn out to be one of the biggest weaknesses of the world's only superpower, during the beginning weeks and months of the war. Our civilians, plentiful as they were, and all soon to be ready and willing to be drafted, simply had no experience in invasions, war, or anything of the sort. Maybe if the Invaders had come during the height of the Cold War, when **everyone** was 'ready' for such a large scale war, we would have been a bit more ready, but they would have had just an easier time burning through our defenses, given the fact that technology back then, was unrecognizable from what we have - or, had - now. So the civilians, scared, frightened, and in desperate need of protection, relied on just over 2.2 million soldiers, to protect over three hundred million. _

_To say that that goal was improbable, would be an understatement of immense proportions; and while that wouldn't stop us from trying, Atlanta would serve to be the very first example of how the Superpower's, Power, wasn't enough._

* * *

"Come on, come on, get in!" Shouted the pilot of the helicopter, as it and five others slowed to a hover over the surface of the alien ship. "We're taking fire, move your ass!" Another pilot shouted, as the United States Army Rangers sprinted towards them, with aliens right behind them, firing wildly, attempting to hit any of the fast-moving Humans.

Christopher McGraw, and those of Dagger 2-1 were the first to enter their helicopter.

_"McGraw, Sanders!_ Get on the turrets!" Ordered Fuller, just before the two sprung to obey the orders.

Chris got into position and chambered a round in the machine gun, and quickly began suppressing the aliens, who were attempting to follow the Rangers, as they exited from the manholes on the top of the ship. Chris counted that he killed at least two, before the aliens wised up, and hid from the large, destructive bullets. Chris stopped firing, to allow the turret's barrel to cool, the aliens took the momentary pause in fire to begin popping up from the manholes.

_"Hold on, we're taking off!"_ Shouted the pilot, as the helicopter quickly began gaining altitude. Chris once again began firing at the aliens, and he only had a few moments to see that the other helicopters had all picked up their surviving Rangers, and they too were taking off.

_"Dagger 2-1, sit rep."_ Said the voice of Command.

_"Command, we're just leaving the ship! Detonation pending safe distance!"_ Fuller responded.

_"Sanders, McGraw, on the ground! Light 'em up!"_ Whyte advised, as he pulled out the detonator for the C4.

Chris looked down, and saw that there were _many_ aliens, swarming the streets, taking shots at whatever they saw fit, civilians who'd yet to flee, soldiers who hadn't yet made it to the Capitol Building, and police officers who were trying to be of service to either of the former. Chris maneuvered the machine gun and aimed it towards the ground, and quickly began firing in tight bursts, tearing into the aliens _and_ the vehicles that had been abandoned by the civilians. The soldiers on the ground looked up, and cheered for a moment at the helicopters, as they roared on by, and the aliens attempted in vain to shoot them down, but their rifles and pistols wouldn't do enough damage.

_"Dagger 2-1, be advised: Friendly Ground Forces, consisting of National Guard, Army, and Marine elements have tried to halt the enemy advancements, but enemy shock-troopers have routed all attempts. Friendly forces are regrouping at the Atlanta Capitol Building, to attempt a counter strike." _Command explained, _"They are trying to buy you as much time as possible to end the enemy's air superiority. The moment you blow that ship, get on the ground and move to the capitol building, and assist friendly forces."_ Said Command, _"Command out."_

_"Roger that!"_ Shouted Fuller,"Whyte, are we far enough away!?" Demanded Fuller, as the helicopters roared through the city-streets.

"Sir yes sir!"

_"Dagger Squad, detonating in three… Two… One!"_ Fuller declared into the radio, before he nodded to Whyte, and the C4 was detonated.

The air seemed to grow still, and silent, in the few moments before the explosives on the ship detonated. Chris looked up, at the ship, and just a moment later, the ship blew apart in a massive orange explosion; and just a moment after, the orange was swallowed completely by a blue fireball, as the entire rear section of the ship was eaten by the blue white flames. The shockwave quickly reached the helicopter, which shuddered violently, but managed to keep its stance in the air as it roared through the air.

_"Hell yeah!"_ Shouted Whyte, "Look at that damn thing fall!" And true to his words, the ship - now dead in the air - was plummeting to the ground, its engines no longer able to sustain it in the air.

Just as the helicopter took a left turn, the ship slammed into the ground, which - McGraw assumed - shook upon its impact. Dust and Debris was thrown into the air when it hit the ground, and the aliens all slowed to a stop, as it registered just what the 'puny Humans' had just done.

_"Command, the alien ship is destroyed! Call in the air, we're just about at the capitol!"_ Fuller shouted.

_"Understood, Dagger 2-1, be advised we're detecting a mass of enemy foot mobiles and air forces are moving _directly_ for the Capitol, you've pissed a lot of people off, over."_ Came the nearly ecstatic response from Command.

_"Get ready, we're landing!"_ Shouted the helicopter's pilot, and just a few moments passed before his words rung true and the helicopter touched ground.

_"Squad, move out!"_ Ordered Fuller, as he and the other five funneled out of the helicopter, and immediately moved for cover, as the sounds, sights, and tools of war filled their senses and assaulted their surroundings.

* * *

Entry No. 3 (Final):

_The Air Force sure as hell dominated, I'll tell you that._

_Not six minutes after the Squad touched down at the Capitol, and started fighting for every_ **inch** _of land the Invaders were trying to steal, did our jets pour in from the East, and violently clash with the enemy air. _

_For the first ten or so minutes, it was really hard to tell who was winning the Atlantan air-space, but when the Helicopters arrived and started destroying the enemy ground forces, did the battle begin to turn in our favor._

_The Helicopters tore into the ground forces, as well as the air forces, and when assistance finally came for our jets and soldiers, did we truly start to win back our land._

_But the Invaders didn't see it that way._

_The Invaders saw it as the 'Petulant Humans' stealing what was 'Rightfully' their's… And that if_ they_ couldn't have Atlanta, no one could._

* * *

Shin Tso'Mal's mighty vessel had only just gotten into the orbit of the 'Earth', and already his auditory canals were being assaulted with insulting reports. Apparently, the Humans were _much_ more adept in battle than they'd thought at first, and were very capable of adapting, quickly. The Human city of 'Atlanta', was among the first they'd brought overwhelming force to; Tso'Mal's plan was simple: If the 'United States', was supposed to be the Earth's most powerful nation, then he would bring the most overwhelming force to it, and break the Human Race's will by conquering _it_ first. Of course, other nations would be invaded, but they needed to break the Earth's mightiest first, so the others would fall all the quicker. So they began at the United States' four most extreme corners of its land, and attacked inwards from there, 'Atlanta' was in its southeastern corner, near the ocean. The initial reports had been promising, the light-cruiser 'Terrifying Ascent', a Mercenary ship, had been essential in gaining aerial superiority, and the myriad of Hegemony and Mercenary air-fighters had quickly dominated the 'United States Air Force', and had pushed the Human 'jets' from the city, in a matter of hours. Then, the Batarian Slave-Corps had been the first to strike at the Humans, with nearly pure brute-force. The slaves had done _well_ in decimating the Humans, and the Vorcha and Krogan mercenaries did even better at dominating and destroying those who were too foolish to lay down their arms and surrender. Tso'Mal had smiled, at the prospect of not having _at all_ to deploy true Batarian Soldiers to the battle field.

But then, he'd gotten the report that some _petulant_ Humans had destroyed the Terrifying Ascent, and almost immediately had begun to counter the Subjugators, and destroy them.

It was wrong.

It shouldn't be happening.

It was _unacceptable!_

So Tso'Mal had to act.

Thank the gods the Council didn't know of what was happening.

"Have the ships aligned?" He asked, as he felt his mighty vessel slow to a halt.

"Yes, Captain." Said a crewman.

"Are our weapons ready?"

"Yes, sir." A gunnery officer reported.

"Then all strike-force ships, are to fire." He ordered, before he paused, and said 'Now." with a sneer.

His ship, and the four others that he'd ordered to get into position above 'Atlanta's orbit, all shuddered violently as they fired twice at the Earth.

"This will show the Humans, that they cannot win." Said Tso'Mal, "Make sure they can _see_ this, on their 'Televisions'." He ordered, before he went to retire to his quarters.

* * *

_A/N:_

_And you guys thought what I did in TFW was bad... (Shakes Head) _

_Anyways, I'll be going on vacation real soon, so updates will be suspended until I get home. _

_If you're looking for status updates on this story's status (Or Others), check out my profile!  
If you're looking for different stories entirely, check out my other works! _

_Thanks for reading!_

_- ProfFartBurger_


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